


The Building Blocks of Life

by SolveForHoltzmann



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: I don't even know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-10-05 07:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10301666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolveForHoltzmann/pseuds/SolveForHoltzmann
Summary: Dr. Gorin's POV while watching Holtzmann grow up. Starts around 8 yrs of age. All back story at this point, haven't made it to the point in time where the other Ghostbustin' Ladies are around. Eventually they will be part of this.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This turned into something *very* different than I originally intended. It was supposed to be the story behind why Holtz is so freaked out about doctors, and it is/will be that, but the story kept pouring out so I went with it. It spans quite a few years and is told from Dr. Gorin’s POV, and I may insert chapters where they fit, if things shake out that way. This one was meant to elaborate on my other story, Sick Days Are For Dudes, but became a thing all on its own.

Rebecca moved through the sterile white hallways of the hospital quickly, with a purpose. She didn’t like to dawdle. It only took her a few minutes to restock each room once it had been emptied of patients.  Sighing, she moved through the next three rooms. This was just a temporary job for her, she reminded herself constantly. She only needed it to help cover her  outrageous Boston rent while she was finishing her doctorate. The scholarship she’d been awarded covered all her tuition and books, but it didn’t provide for room and board. She’d be relieved when she could leave this job behind her. Turning the corner, she ducked into the next darkened room with her cart of supplies but pulled up short when she discovered a child— the girl couldn’t have been more than eight years old, she guessed, though it was hard to tell with her slight frame— sitting in a chair beside the bed of a woman who was still. Too still.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was still in here.” Rebecca started to back her cart out of the room, but when the girl didn’t respond, she paused. She had never really spent any time around children, but something struck her as a little off. There had been absolutely no recognition from the girl acknowledging that she had been spoken to. She remained seated, swinging her legs (her feet didn’t quite reach the floor), watching Rebecca with very still, cat-like blue eyes. Her blonde hair was a wild mess of curls, and not a single article of clothing she wore matched, including her shoes, which might have both been for a left foot. “Are you alright?” When there was no response from the girl for a second time, Rebecca carefully picked up the chart hanging from the end of the woman’s hospital bed, and thumbed through the pages, looking for any type of helpful information. 

What she learned was sobering. The woman had been brought in several hours prior by paramedics, suspected of a drug overdose. She had been pronounced deceased shortly after arrival. With nobody else in the home except for the girl— _Jillian_ , she learned from reading—the paramedics had been forced to bring her with them. According to the paperwork, the hospital was waiting on Child and Family Services to come get the girl. Rebecca closed the chart, and placed it back in the rack at the end of the bed. 

Why was the girl sitting here, with her deceased mother, completely unattended?

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said quietly, not expecting a response, as she slipped back out the door. There was a woman who worked in the Child and Family Services department Rebecca knew she could probe for information. Two floors up, and three doors to the right, she knocked softly. It took longer than she liked for anyone to answer the door as she waited, tapping her foot, but she was relieved her acquaintance was working tonight.

“Oh, Rebecca, hi. What can I do for you?” the woman asked, a little out of breath, shuffling a stack of papers in her arms.

“Hello, Marcia. You seem busy— I’ll make it quick. I have a question. There is a young girl down in 328-A. Her mother is deceased. She's just sitting there unattended. Is someone coming for her?”

“328, 328…” Marcia shuffled through her paperwork again, stopping when she reached a thin manilla folder, and flipped it open. “328. Holtzmann, Jillian. Yes, we are waiting for a foster family to come pick her up. Poor thing. Her mom died, no blood relatives. We’ve just been very backed up this weekend, everything is taking longer than it should.”

“When are they expected to be here?”

“Probably not until morning. One of my co-workers is making calls, but it’s not easy to find a foster placement, even a temporary one, in the middle of the night.”

“So she’s going to just sit there by herself until morning?” Rebecca scoffed in disbelief.

“We are seriously understaffed and seriously backed up. If I had anyone to spare to sit with her, they would already be there. We are doing the best we can. The nurses are keeping an eye on things, but they’re busy, too.”

“I’m done with my shift in fifteen minutes. Would it be helpful if I stayed with her?”

“Oh, wow! That would be beyond helpful, if you’re willing.”

“Sure. But can I take her someplace besides that room? I’d rather not sit in there with her deceased mother.”

“Of course. There is a family waiting room at the north end of that hallway. You know it, yes? If you’d like to wait there with her, I will have the foster care rep look in there for the two of you.”

Rebecca nodded and left Marcia to her mountain of work. She wasn’t surprised to find the girl— Jillian, she reminded herself— still sitting in the same place, with that same blank look on her face, still swinging her legs.  Rebecca approached her with the same apprehension a person might approach a wild animal with.

“Jillian? My name is Rebecca. Do you want to come get a snack?” Again, no response. Just an uncomprehending stare. Rebecca wasn’t sure what else to do. She reached down, peeling the girl’s fingers off the thin arm rest of the hospital chair, and took her hand. With just a touch of dismay, she noted how sticky her fingers were. The girl offered no resistance when Rebecca gently pulled her out of the chair, and she only briefly glanced back at her mother’s hospital bed before following Rebecca placidly out of the room. They walked through the silent hallway hand in hand, until they reached the family waiting area. Due to the late hour, the hospital cafeteria had long been closed, but there was a vending machine in the waiting area. Rebecca dropped a few quarters in and selected a miniature container of Pringles. Children shouldn’t have sugar this late in the evening, right? She knew if she had asked the girl what she wanted, that she wouldn’t have gotten an answer. So she fished the container out of the vending machine, and sat down on the only couch in the room, gently pulling the girl with her. She was surprised when Jillian curled up on the couch right up against her, and without thinking about it, she lifted her arm to rest it gently around the girl’s shoulders, holding her close. Rebecca flipped open the lid to the chips, and pulled out a small stack to hand to Jillian, who took the stack and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, crunching loudly. Rebecca smiled to herself, and reached her free hand out to the end table, looking for something to read. She generally disliked typical children’s stories, but was annoyed to find only the most recent issue of the _Journal of the American Medical Association_ available. She flipped the magazine open to roughly the middle, which happened to be an article about the risks and benefits of using anticoagulants at the onset of stroke symptoms, pushed her glasses up, and began to read out loud. 

Several articles later, Rebecca realized she had been absently running her fingers through the girl’s wild blonde curls, and that the girl was now asleep against her side, snoring softly. She glanced at the watch on her free hand, noting it was nearing six in the morning, and set the magazine back on the table. Leaning her head back against the couch, she tried to take a nap as well, but never fully dozed off.

At 7:30 A.M., Marcia gently tapped her arm and whispered, “Rebecca? The foster family is here. Thank you so much for looking after her.”

Rebecca blinked open her eyes, surprised she hadn’t heard Marcia enter the room. She glanced down at the girl, who was still sleeping soundly next to her, and shook her shoulder. 

“Jillian, wake up. It’s time to go.” Jillian yawned as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes sleepily. Once she appeared a little more alert, Marcia pressed a hand lightly behind her back, propelling her gently off the sofa.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Jillian. But there are two very nice people here to take you home and look after you now.”

It took both Rebecca and Marcia by surprise when the expression on the girl’s face changed from sleepy to panicked in an instant. Jillian ducked under the arm Marcia had around her shoulders, and leaped back into Rebecca’s lap on the couch, clinging tightly to her scrub top with those sticky fingers. 

“No no no no. I wanna stay here, with you,” she wailed, closing her eyes and burying her face in Rebecca’s chest. 

Rebecca had no time to prepare before she felt her heart break in two. It was the first time the girl had spoken, and it was a panicked plea. She wrapped her arms around the girl’s tiny body, and stood up, effectively carrying her. Jillian wrapped her legs around Rebecca’s waist tightly, crying into her collar.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright. It’s going to be fine. I’ll come visit once you’re settled,” she tried to reassure the girl, while carrying her toward the elevator, Marcia following a few steps behind them down to the lobby. 

Once they were on the ground floor, Rebecca spotted two very average-looking adults, holding hands and waiting expectantly. Marcia motioned them over, and made the introductions. Jillian never looked up, keeping her face pressed tightly against Rebecca’s collar, her fingers gripping two fistfuls of Rebecca’s scrub top.

“Jillian, none of this—“ Marcia tsked, “These people have come a long way to take care of you. Don’t you want to meet them?” 

Jillian sniffled, though Rebecca doubted it was an actual response so much as it was just a biological need at the moment. She shrugged and followed the family out to their car, her sense of dread growing with every step. Jillian, whom she had only known for about six hours, had managed to worm her way into Rebecca’s heart. Through silent tears of her own, she peeled Jillian off her body and helped get her into the car, buckling her seatbelt and closing the door— muffling the hysterical crying coming from inside the vehicle. 

Without commenting on Rebecca’s tears, Marcia rested a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be ok. It’s always traumatic in these situations. If you want, I can get in contact with her case worker in a few days and get you paired up with her through the Big Brother Big Sister program. Would you like that?”

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded, not even fully understanding what that meant.

 


	2. 2

Marcia had done as she promised, and pulled enough strings to get Rebecca paired up with Jillian through the Big Brother/Big Sister program. Sure, there had been hoops to jump through— background checks, character references, things like that— but signing up to spend time with Jillian seemed worth it, especially since she had promised. She didn’t have any classes on Friday afternoons, and dedicated that time to spend with Jillian. The very first Friday she was allowed, Rebecca was on the Mason’s doorstep at exactly 3:30 P.M., knocking somewhat impatiently. Without really understanding why, she felt an overwhelming need to follow through with that promise to Jillian. She didn’t really have a plan for their afternoon, which in hindsight was probably something she should have figured out beforehand, but what did kids like to do? Rebecca started to rack her brain for options and quickly settled on the Museum of Science in downtown Boston. That was probably more suited to her own interests rather than Jillian’s, but it was something. 

Cheryl Mason pulled the door open a moment later, a tight smile on her face. 

“It’s so nice to see you again, Rebecca. Last time was a little…chaotic. Come on in, Jillian is getting her backpack together.” There was something a little off about the woman’s tone, but Rebecca couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and chalked it up to everyone being awkwardly unfamiliar with one another. There really wasn’t anything typical about this situation, she supposed. When Cheryl pulled the door open wide to welcome Rebecca in, she moved stiffly to one side and waited for Jillian to appear. They stood in the foyer waiting, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. Rebecca had been told there were no other children in the Mason’s home, and idly wondered why that was. Finally, after the silence had stretched far too long, Cheryl sighed. “I’m not sure if her foster care coordinator warned you,” she whispered, “but we have some concerns. Jillian is different.”

“What do you mean?”

“She displays some…peculiarities. Nothing has been confirmed yet, but she’s aloof and uninterested in making friends. I’ve noticed she seems to have some communication difficulties, like not telling us when she needs something. We’ve had to guess. Or not really saying anything at all. I thought maybe it had to do with everything she’s been through,” she shrugged helplessly, “But I  wanted you to be aware before you took her out on your own. She’s had a couple of spectacular meltdowns since coming here.”

“I appreciate the warning. Not that I know what to do with the information.”

“I just wouldn’t expect a lot of conversation. I think she listens, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

Rebecca heard Jillian before she saw her, clomping down the stairs with more emphasis on the sound of her shoes against the wood than was strictly necessary. Like the last time she had seen her, her blonde curls were wild and unchecked, but Rebecca cringed watching her barrel down the stairs with her shoelaces untied and silently hoped she didn’t trip. Fortunately, Cheryl noticed at the same time and stopped her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey, tie your shoelaces before you leave, please. You don’t want to trip and fall.” Jillian looked at her blankly, then looked to Rebecca, shrugged, and knelt to tie her laces into a sloppy bow. When she stood back up, Cheryl placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the door. “You and Miss Rebecca are going to have fun this afternoon. We’ll see you later on. Be safe, girls.”

The Museum of Science was expansive enough they could have spent all day there, though they only had the rest of the afternoon to wander through the exhibits. Since Jillian wasn’t volunteering any information about what she wanted to see, Rebecca steered them toward the stations she could easily make sense of— gravity, chemical reactions, robotics— and away from the ones that were a bit murky to her (she didn’t _really_ want to get into an explanation of human biology with Jillian just yet). The press of people was overwhelming, even for her, and she felt guilty for a minute when Jillian pressed against her side as they walked, clinging to her like a lifeline. Rebecca wrapped her arm around Jillian’s shoulder, and maneuvered them so they were not in the middle of the pack. Most of the other patrons, particularly the ones with children, seemed to be heading toward a large exhibit about dinosaurs, and avoiding the crowd became much easier. They worked their way through several stations, pausing once to spend extra time building a rudimentary circuit. All throughout, Jillian said very little, so Rebecca filled in the silence with a one-sided explanation about the way electricity flows through conduits, and the need for grounding to prevent a dangerous backlash. It never occurred to her that the science might be over Jillian’s head, that the words might sound like gibberish to a child, but she spoke to Jillian like she would speak to an adult and little by little, Rebecca saw the shell disappear. By the time they had worked through several stations, Jillian was emboldened enough to start asking questions, and Rebecca was giddy with relief. She seemed to be enjoying herself and was thoroughly engaged in the hands-on activities. When the intercom crackled, announcing it was nearing time for the museum to close, they were both disappointed, but Rebecca brightened with an idea.

“Hey, should we stop by the gift shop on the way out?”

The hopeful-but-not-quite-believing smile that flashed across Jillian’s face tugged at her heart. Rebecca had to prod a little to find out what Jillian wanted, but in the end, they decided on a soldering kit— only if Jillian promised not to use it by herself, which she emphatically agreed to.

After dropping Jillian back off at the Mason’s late in the evening, Rebecca decided to go ahead and purchase a lifetime membership to the Museum of Science. Not-so-coincidentally, the membership gave her a discount in the gift shop.

 


	3. 3

When the fall semester was scheduled to begin, Rebecca was assigned as a TA to a freshman-level physics class. She always hated working with freshmen— so few of them really _wanted_ to be there, and their indifference showed through their sloppy, unoriginal work. Even worse than having to deal with uninterested freshmen in a lab setting was the fact that her section was scheduled for Friday afternoons— the time she had long since dedicated to spending with Jillian. Rebecca had begged and pleaded to be assigned a different section, but her professor only taught the one physics class, and Friday afternoons were the only lab accompanying his class. She was stuck— her application for her post-doctoral fellowship was dependent on his positive recommendation. 

The Masons only grudgingly allowed Rebecca to take Jillian out for a few hours on Fridays, because they were not school nights. Saturday was a “family day”— whatever that meant— and Sundays were for religious observance. Over the summer, the two of them had forged a strange bond, and Rebecca hoped Jillian looked forward to their afternoons together as much as she did. Each time Rebecca saw her, Jillian came more and more out of her shell.  Rebecca no longer had to poke and prod to find out how school was going, or what new creative endeavor Jillian was undertaking. It felt like real progress. There were fewer extended silences between them, and even during those quiet moments, it no longer felt pained and she did not feel like she had to make small talk to fill the void. The void had simply disappeared as they had become fond of one another, and comfortable in the silence. Rebecca knew very little about children, but she knew _this_ particular child needed her routine, and the stability of routine grounded her in a way nothing else had. Disrupting that routine and ending their visits was the last thing she wanted to do, so she tried one more angle with her professor.

 

“Absolutely not.”

Well, that hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped.

“Please reconsider. I will take one hundred percent responsibility for her. It’s just a freshman-level physics lab, we’re not using hazardous chemicals or anything. And we’ll follow all proper safety procedures.” 

The professor must have heard the desperation in her voice. He sighed deeply, pushing his glasses farther up his nose, and pointed a finger directly at her.

“You will directly supervise her _at all times_ and adhere to all the laboratory safety protocols. If I hear a single complaint about her presence, she has to go. I mean it. Do you understand? I’m violating more rules than I care to count by allowing this—”

“You won’t even know she’s there, I promise. Thank you!” Rebecca all but bolted from the office, not wanting to give him any chance to change his mind. When the door slammed shut behind her in her haste, she breathed a sigh of relief that her Friday afternoon visits with Jillian would be able to continue, even if they were in a slightly different capacity.

What Rebecca didn’t expect was Jillian’s overwhelming enthusiasm for accompanying her to the lab, and the Mason’s trepidation at allowing it. Normally quiet, Jillian became awash in excitement, chattering so animatedly about the idea that they couldn’t tell her no. When Rebecca picked her up early in the afternoon on Friday, Jillian practically leapt into the back seat of her car, tossing her back pack to the floor with easy familiarity while Rebecca settled herself in the driver’s seat. Jillian poked her head through the space between the front seats, blonde curls wild and bouncing.

“Are we gonna do experiments?” Her whole body was vibrating with excitement.

“Seatbelt, please.” The enthusiasm was contagious, and Rebecca didn’t try to hide her smile as she looked at Jillian in the rear view mirror. “You’re going to help me set up the experiment stations for the students. The lab is about the diffusion of ink in water, and what the particles do at the microscopic level.” 

“What’s ‘diffusion?’” Jillian buckled her seatbelt into the latch as Rebecca put the car into drive and headed for campus. Most of the ride went this way— Rebecca would answer a question, and Jillian would ask another. Sometimes her questions followed a specific path and were easy to predict, others were entirely off the wall and Rebecca didn’t always know how to answer. It was the most she had ever heard the girl speak, and certainly the most animated she had ever been during their time together. She expected the science to be well over Jillian’s head, and it mostly was, but her curiosity was refreshing. Even the physics students in her lab didn’t ask nearly as many questions. By the time she pulled her old car into a vacant parking spot on campus and put it in park, Jillian was already undoing her seatbelt and climbing out, backpack forgotten. She bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet waiting for Rebecca to gather her things. 

“There are some very serious rules we have to follow while we are in the lab, Jillian. No running or yelling. No eating or drinking. We must always wear proper safety equipment. And most importantly, you must do exactly what I say, when I say it. Do you understand?” Jillian nodded emphatically, tugging at the straps of her overalls. “Excellent. We’ll get you a lab coat and safety glasses, then we can get started setting up. The students will be here in forty-five minutes.”

It had been more difficult than Rebecca had anticipated finding a lab coat for her “assistant.” Jillian was small, even for her age, and the smallest of the lab coats still hung down past her knees. The best she could do was fit her with one meant for a petite student and tie a belt around her middle. The safety glasses had been much easier to come by. Rebecca had an old pair of her own glasses stashed in the bottom drawer of her desk on campus, and she gladly gave them to Jillian. The yellow-lensed glasses sat on her small face a little awkwardly, but they’d do— ink was hardly a dangerous chemical, nor was it likely to combust. The last thing they had to do was find a way to pull Jillian’s wild blonde curls up. She found a loose hair tie and a thin black headband in her desk, and motioned the girl over.

“Here, let’s pull your hair back,” she said, gently turning Jillian around by the shoulders and finger-combing her unruly hair into something resembling a bun before sliding the headband over and into place. Rebecca turned her back around. “There. Now you look like a proper scientist.” Well, she looked like a young girl dressed up as a scientist for Halloween, but it would do. The beaming grin she was met with was more reward than Rebecca ever could have asked for. 

Rebecca pulled out the plastic bins of supplies the students would need for the lab, and tasked Jillian with placing two glass beakers on each table, while she went around distributing the small vials of ink and the microscope slides. She listened to the girl’s excited chatter, not even trying to get a word in— it would have been impossible. 

_Doesn’t she need to take a breath?_ Rebecca wondered, without actually minding. Between the two of them, they had very nearly finished setting up when the first of the physics students began to shuffle in, stashing their book bags and changing into lab coats and safety goggles. She motioned Jillian over to her desk to wait until everyone was ready at their lab stations. 

“If you’ll take out your lab manuals, you’ll see the steps are outlined explicitly for you. Follow them and make the appropriate observations so you can complete your lab reports,” Rebecca announced to the class. “Also, I have an assistant with me from here on out. This is Jillian Holtzmann, and she will be observing and assisting where possible. Please be sure to welcome her.” Many of the students had taken note of the pint-sized laboratory assistant, and several smiled and waved, earning a hesitant wave and a “hi” in return. In particular, the table closest to Rebecca’s desk appeared quite interested in the fact that there was a child in the lab, and their welcoming smiles put even Rebecca more at ease with the idea of having Jillian with her. 

The students got down to business rather quickly (the standing rule was once you were done with the experiment and cleaned up, you were allowed to leave, so they wasted no time). Jillian perched herself on the edge of Rebecca’s desk, craning her neck to see what the students nearest to her were doing, while Rebecca moved around the room, checking in with the rest. Jillian tried, she really did, to sit quietly at the desk and observe, but her curiosity won out and she tip-toed over to the nearest station, peering up at the beakers just as one girl was adding a few drops of ink to water. 

“Hi. You can hang out here and watch, if you want,” the student said, smiling. “My name is Ana.”

“i’mjillianholtzmann,” she mumbled quickly, rising up to her tip toes to get a better look.

“Holtzmann, huh? Here, climb up on this stool so you can see.” Ana pushed a tall stool toward Jillian, who eagerly climbed up, and continued watching with intensity that a hawk would envy. At the same time, Rebecca glanced up from helping one of the students, panicking for a second when she didn’t see her “assistant” at her desk. She scanned the room quickly and spotted Jillian at the lab station closest to the front of the room. The student— _what was her name? Amanda? Ashley?_ — carried on with her work and didn’t appear overtly annoyed, so Rebecca casually made her way over. Jillian was paying such close attention that she squeaked when she felt Rebecca’s hand on her shoulder, and bit her lip guiltily. 

“Jillian, I trust you are minding your manners and following laboratory rules, right?”

“Ana said I could watch…” she trailed off, suddenly unsure of her welcome.

“She’s not bothering me any,” Ana chimed in, smiling brightly. “My little sister is about her age. And anyway, I could use a lab partner since mine isn’t here today.” She winked at Jillian. 

“Thank you, Ana. If you need anything, let me know.” She wasn’t going to suggest that Jillian’s presence was a nuisance— there was no reason to beat a child’s confidence like that— but she did want her student to know she had an “out” if Jillian became too much of a distraction. Fortunately, once Ana got back to work, she didn’t appear to mind Jillian at all. A couple of times, Rebecca even overheard Ana giving Jillian some simple instructions. _Place three drops of ink in vial number one. Stir counter-clockwise for thirty seconds._ Eventually, Jillian did become curious about the other students, and she slid off the stool, making her way around the stations in the room in the same pattern Rebecca had initially followed. The students were very patient with her— whether that was to gain brownie points with their TA, nobody would say. Didn’t matter, since the end result was the same. They included her in their work as much as possible, having followed Ana’s lead. She appeared to be especially fond of dramatically dropping ink into the water, but her stirring was a little too enthusiastic, as one pair of students quickly discovered. A table at a time, Jillian was endearing herself to the class of freshman and by the end of the class period, she had become something of a pet to them. As the experiments were winding down, Jillian helped Rebecca check the equipment back in and get it stored properly. Students began shuffling out of the lab, with a wave and a “see ya next time” for Jillian.

“Well, did you have a good time?”

Jillian nodded so hard it make _Rebecca’s_ teeth hurt. 

“I’ll bring you back next week, if you’d like. The students will be doing an experiment with gravity. But for now, let’s put away our lab coats and glasses. It’s getting late, and if you promise not to tell, we can stop for ice cream on the way home.”

 


	4. 4

Rebecca and Jillian had been routinely spending Friday afternoons together for several years. The feedback she’d gotten from both the Masons and Jillian’s case worker indicated that though she seemed to be thriving, she continued to have difficulties at school making friends and fitting in, and her grades were barely adequate. Rebecca was surprised to hear Jillian’s grades weren’t better, given the aptitude and interest she showed during the labs. Now that she was a regular fixture during Friday afternoon labs, and she had seen several classes come and go, Jillian was even able to help the students when their experiments were going wrong or the proper steps hadn’t been followed. She didn’t seem to have any trouble interacting with freshman, and over the past three years, Rebecca had seen more and more pieces of the puzzle that was Jillian Holtzmann fall into place. She was fourteen years old now. There were still occasional moments when words seemed to fail her, but she had gradually begun to replace her quiet insecurities with the confidence she gained by helping the students. So it wasn’t immediately clear to Rebecca why Jillian would still be struggling. 

When she pulled into the Mason’s drive, Jillian was outside waiting for her, her clunky black combat boots and mismatched socks showing beneath the rolled-up pant legs of her overalls. Absently, Rebecca noted the yellow-lensed safety glasses Jillian wore— the same ones she had given her the first time she had visited Rebecca’s lab. Jillian had taken to wearing them outside the lab, and nobody ever questioned her choice. Right away, Rebecca could tell something was not right. Jillian jerked the car door open and tossed her back pack to the floor with barely a muttered “hi” before climbing in and slamming it shut again.  She even half-heartedly, petulantly, kicked the back of the seat in front of her. Rebecca looked questioningly at her in the rear view mirror, arching an eyebrow.

“Hi, Jillian,” she said pointedly, “How was school?” She knew that pressing Jillian for information she wasn’t ready to share would only lead to her shutting down, and hoped that school was neutral enough to at least get her engaged in a conversation. Her hopes were dashed, however, when Jillian shrugged and continued to brood in the back seat. “Alright, then. I’m excited to have your help today. We’re going to be doing that electrical conductivity experiment again, the same one we did at the beginning of last semester that gave the students so much trouble—”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Well, that was out of left field. 

“No, I don’t,” she said evenly.

“Do you have a _girlfriend?_ ”

“No, I don’t have one of those, either.” 

Sometimes the mental acrobatics required to keep up with teenage thinking were exhausting.

“Well do you want one?”

“A boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?”

“Either one, whatever.”

Oh, it was starting to come together.

“If I met someone I had a connection with, I might like to develop a romantic relationship, yes.”

“But what if it was a girl? Because you’re a girl.”

“I think love is love. Boy, girl,” she watched Jillian crack a small smile in the mirror, “whatever.”

“What if _I_ wanted a girlfriend?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, I think if you meet someone who loves you for exactly who you are, and you love that person back in the same way, gender becomes irrelevant.”

The heavy sigh of relief Jillian breathed melted the tension in the car, and the rest of the drive to campus was much more relaxed. _Did she just come out to me?_ If Jillian was trying to sort out her emotions concerning her sexuality, that certainly explained the attitude this afternoon. It might also explain some of the trouble she was having connecting with her peers. Sexuality and labels were a tricky thing; Rebecca had never felt boxed in one way or another, but that was a conclusion she had come to as an adult, not during her formative teenage years. She couldn’t even imagine tackling something as confusing and fluid and sexuality and contending with normal teenage hormones at the same time. Rebecca realized that a moment of silence had stretched into several between them, and when she changed the topic, this time Jillian was all too happy to oblige.

“Tell me about school, Jillian. I’ve heard your grades have slipped and you aren’t making friends.” 

“I try. But I’m not good at taking tests, it’s so hard to sit there and focus when the teacher is talking about the hidden meaning of a scarlet A or about the history of a country that I can’t even find on a map and my science class this year is biology and our big experiment is going to be dissecting a frog which isn’t fair and the only class I have an A in is P.E. and I don’t know how because I’m not any good at team sports and I don’t really relate to the other kids in my grade anyway, all they talk about is clothes and make-up and boys,” She huffed, finally taking a breath. “I wish I could just take classes here with you instead.”

“I’ll make you a deal. You take the rest of this semester and work really hard to bring your grades back up, and I will talk to Mike and Cheryl about getting you started in dual-enrollment for the fall semester. You’ll have to take placement tests, but I think we can get you a class or two on campus. Especially a math or science class. What do you think?”

“I can take classes here?”

“The dual enrollment program allows accelerated high school students to take certain college-level classes for both high school and college credit. But you have to be able to place into them and maintain a minimum standard GPA.” 

“What if I can’t get my grades up?”

“Try. I can help tutor you, if needed. Though my memories of classic English literature are rather dusty.” Rebecca pulled her car into a designated spot and put it in park. They both got out of the car, and Rebecca slung her arm around Jillian’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t teach these silly freshman how to _really_ make some sparks.”

 


	5. 5

Two semesters later, Jillian was well-situated in a combination of classes at her high school and on the M.I.T. campus. Her mornings were spent at M.I.T., studying college-level mathematics and physics. Of course, she could have completed the lab experiments in her sleep, but her confidence was bolstered by the ease with which she grasped the material and applied it to what she had previously learned only through observation (without having known the _whys_ ). Rebecca checked in often with her colleagues that were Jillian’s instructors, and they always assured her that Jillian was doing well and was a pleasure to have in class. Jillian often had lunch with Rebecca in her office, just before she took the bus to her high school campus to finish out her school day. And they still had their Friday afternoons together, though this semester Rebecca didn’t have a lab that interfered. Instead, she would pick Jillian up from home and help her with any remaining homework she had, and then they would go get ice cream, or wander down by the waterfront, or visit the science museum (though the dynamic had shifted, and Rebecca insisted Jillian explain the science behind the exhibits to _her_ instead, now that she was old enough to understand). Her curfew on Fridays wasn’t nearly as strict anymore. 

So when Friday afternoon rolled around, just as Rebecca was packing up her things to leave for the day and go pick up Jillian, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number, but uncharacteristically answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Rebecca? Oh, I— can you—I’m not sure who else to call,” the voice on the other end of the phone was breathless, and after a moment, she recognized it as belonging to her acquaintance from long ago who worked in the Child and Family Services department at the local hospital, Marcia. It had been a long time since they had spoken, and hearing her stammering voice immediately caused a knot to form in the pit of Rebecca’s stomach. “Jillian and her family were in a car accident. Jillian is banged up, but they think she will be fine. I— just— can you come down here? I’ll explain the rest.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Her voice was clipped, and she rushed through traffic as much as possible, laying on the horn of her car more times than she had ever used it in her whole life. What _was it_ about Boston traffic? When she did arrive, slamming the car into park, and whirling into the emergency room, Marcia was there waiting.

“I’m so glad you could come. Jillian is resting— they want to keep her overnight to monitor her. She was wearing her seatbelt when the other vehicle struck them. But the family. Mike was ejected from the vehicle, and Cheryl’s side of the car took most of the impact. He didn’t make it, and she is in critical condition. If she does survive, the doctors are still worried about the trauma to her spinal cord. It’s all so terrible. I know Jillian adores you, and I wanted someone to be here with her. I’m working on finding her another placement option…” she trailed off, visibly relieved to have Rebecca there. Rebecca just stared at her for a moment, unable to fully comprehend the volume of information she had just received. 

“Where is she?” was all she could stammer out for the moment, and she blindly followed Marcia into a quiet, dimly-lit room adjacent to the ICU. Jillian was lying on the bed, and she appeared to be sleeping. Her head was partially bandaged, her left arm was wrapped and in a sling, and a number of cuts and scrapes were visible against her pale skin. There was an IV catheter in her right hand connected to clear tubing leading up to a bag of intravenous fluids, an oxygen monitor on her finger, and a tangle of grey wires that disappeared beneath the hospital gown she wore, which Rebecca recognized as EKG leads. “Can I speak to her doctor?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll find him.”

While she waited for the doctor, Rebecca sat down in a chair, scooting it close to Jillian’s bedside, watching the EKG monitor spike and fall rhythmically for several long minutes.

“Dr. Gorin?” A rough, decidedly masculine voice pierced the dark cloud of her worrying thoughts.

“Yes, that’s me,” she whispered, moving back from Jillian’s bedside and just outside the door so they could speak without waking her up.

“I’m Dr. Walker. Marcia sent me over to talk with you. Ordinarily, as you know, we wouldn’t release any patient information to non-family, especially on a minor, but I think everyone will agree, these are extenuating circumstances.” He paused for a breath before continuing. “From what the paramedics have told me, the Masons and Jillian were in their vehicle leaving the high school when another vehicle collided with the passenger side. Mr. Mason was ejected from the vehicle, and paramedics pronounced him deceased at the scene. Mrs. Mason has sustained severe injuries and will be taken to surgery within the hour, but her condition remains critical. We’ve contacted her family. Jillian was the least injured. She appears to have a concussion, a non-displaced fracture of her left ulna, and a handful of mostly superficial lacerations. She should be ok, but I’ve recommended she stay overnight due to the potential for brain swelling. We’ve contacted her case worker, and I’m told they are trying to find a  place for her to be released to, but those details will have to come from CFS when they have everything figured out. In the meantime, I’ve given her pain medication and sedation to keep her comfortable. I know that’s a lot of information, so if you have any questions, please come find me.” He excused himself, not having any additional information to share, and visibly uncomfortable at having shared any information about a minor patient to someone who was not a guardian— it violated about a hundred different HIPAA rules. Rebecca was still rather shell-shocked, her brain already working at a million miles a minute. If Jillian couldn’t return to the Masons, where would she go? There were so many variables, and Rebecca tried to reconcile the options in her mind. Though it was futile right then, she wondered for a moment about Jillian’s accelerated education and how it would be impacted by a change in her foster situation. She returned to the bedside chair, nervously chewing at her fingernail while Jillian slept unaware. Frustration and guilt washed over her in rocky waves, spent before being hit again full force. Helplessness followed in their wake, and she willed herself not to cry. It just wasn’t fair— it felt like the universe was stacked against Jillian in every way imaginable and Rebecca didn’t know how to stop it. For the second time in Jillian’s young life, everything was going to be turned inside out following a visit to the hospital, and Rebecca couldn’t help but think of the night they had first met. She sighed, doing her best to get comfortable in the stiff hospital chair to wait out the night— the exact opposite of the screaming and raging she wanted to do.

Though she never really fell too deeply asleep, Rebecca did doze off to the steady beeping of the monitors in the room. There was a comfort in the consistency of the noise for her, despite knowing Jillian was not in dire straits, medically speaking. She woke with a start when Marcia tapped lightly on her shoulder, and motioned for Rebecca to follow her out of the room. 

“We’ve found a new placement for Jillian,” she started with a sigh, but the trepidation in her voice caused a heavy knot to form in the pit of Rebecca’s stomach. “It’s a group home situation. They care for fifteen children, both boys and girls, all around Jillian’s age.”

“What? Absolutely not. A group home is not an appropriate placement for her, not at all. There has to be somewhere else she can go.” Rebecca was almost shouting at Marcia, gesturing wildly with her hands. She didn’t care. She would shout as loud as she needed to.

“Rebecca, I appreciate how much you care for her. I really do. But this is the only option we have right now.”

“Could I get approved to be a foster parent?” 

“I can get you started in the application process if you like, but I don’t think it’s going to help in this situation. The approval process takes a long time, and they are extremely picky. I know you would be an excellent care-giver for Jillian, but as a graduate student without stable income, there is no way the foster care review board would approve you right now.”

“That’s absurd that a group home situation would be preferable to an individual placement. She could stay with me as long as she needs, even after she ages out of the system!”

“I know. I know. It’s not right, but I don’t have the power to change it,” Marcia rested her hand lightly on Rebecca’s shoulder in a placating gesture, but let her hand fall lamely back to her side when Rebecca shrugged it off angrily. “We’ll do everything we can to minimize disruptions for her, especially where her education is concerned. The group home is located within her current school district, so she will be able to continue to attend the same high school.”

As if _that_ were a silver lining in the clouds of the hurricane that had become Jillian’s life. 

“I’m going to go back in and sit with her,” she snapped, dismissing herself. 

Jillian was in exactly the same state when Rebecca returned to the room. She made as little noise as possible, not wanting to wake Jillian to face her new reality any sooner than she absolutely had to. Her hope was short-lived, however, and Jillian began to stir a few hours later. It took some time for her to orient back to consciousness, and Rebecca made soothing little noises while stroking Jillian’s unwrapped hand, mindful of the IV. 

“Jillian, love, how are you feeling? Are you hurting?”

“My head. My arm. Ow. When did you get here?” She blinked sleepily, looking down at her bandaged and bruised body. “Mr. and Mrs. Mason?”

Rebecca bit her lip, and reached down to fumble through the bag of Jillian’s belongings. She needed a minute before she could answer, and was relieved to find the pair of yellow-lensed glasses that Jillian loved. She went to hand them over, but realized quickly that Jillian would struggle to get them on by herself, so instead Rebecca held them up in silent question. Jillian nodded, and Rebecca helped her get them on and situated. The glasses were a little banged up, but they gave Jillian a little more of a buffer between herself and the glaring reality she was about to face.

“I can tell you what I know, but we don’t have all the answers yet. And I don’t know what all you know already. Mr. Mason died at the scene of the accident, and Cheryl— Mrs. Mason, suffered some serious injuries. She’s in bad shape, and they’ve taken her to surgery. You sustained a concussion, a fractured arm, and a bunch of bruises and small lacerations.” She didn’t offer any more information just yet— that was more than enough for her to try and process. Jillian didn’t say anything for several long minutes, staring blankly down at her lap. Rebecca could see her shrinking into herself, and knew with each minute that went by, Jillian would be harder and harder to reach, so she tried to draw her back gently. “Jillian, say something? It’s OK to be upset, or scared, or angry. Or all three. Let me in?”

The focus returned to Jillian’s eyes with the _let me in_. That simple phrase had become something of a code between them over the years. Jillian was quick to shut down under stress, and the first time Rebecca had tried to explain she wanted to help but didn’t know how, those three words had built a shaky little rope bridge in the misty world of Overwhelming Emotions, giving Jillian something to grasp on and pull herself to safety. _Let me in_ was permission for Jillian to feel, or to be, and to know that Rebecca would share the burden and, if needed, rescue her.

“Is she going to be OK?”

“I don’t know yet. The doctors are doing everything they can for her. She’s going to have a lot to deal with if she makes it,” Rebecca paused and sighed. There was no sense in drawing this out. “Child and Family Services decided that you need a new foster care placement, and they were able to make arrangements for you at a group home close to your school.”

The sudden tears streaming down Jillian’s face startled both of them. Rebecca didn’t give her a chance to push away first this time; she rose from the chair and carefully lowered herself onto the squeaky hospital bed next to Jillian, pulling her close. There wasn’t anything to say, no magic way to make it all better— especially with all of the variables still at play. 

“I’m so sorry this has happened to you, Jillian. None of it is fair.” 

They both cried for several minutes, becoming sadly resigned to the reality of the situation, the overwhelming grief, and the genuine fear that followed.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so much more fun to write this than it is to be prepping for finals, which is really what I should be doing.

Rebecca was sitting at her kitchen table with stacks of papers splayed out before her, red pen in hand. She only had a week to get all of the lab reports and midterms graded, so she was up late tonight. Who was she kidding, she’d probably be up late tomorrow night, and for the rest of the week, too. She was still angry after her conversation with the foster care review board that morning. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying, but ultimately Marcia had been right; the foster care review board was not going to allow her to be a foster parent. It hadn’t even taken a week to find out. Rebecca didn’t have the heart to tell Jillian about her failed attempt— didn’t want to get her hopes up only to crush them again. She tried to channel her frustration into enough productive energy to make a dent in the stack of papers to be graded. Distracted by a student’s gross misunderstanding of the material evidenced by the answers on the test, she sighed, and almost missed the hesitant knock on her front door. It was definitely too late at night for company, and she wasn’t expecting anyone, so she didn’t undo the chain latch when she pulled the door open a few inches. Relief washed over her, quickly followed by concern, when she discovered Jillian standing on her doorstep, eyes red and puffy even behind those yellow lenses, backpack hanging off one shoulder, looking more disheveled than usual.

“Jillian!” Rebecca squeaked, closing the door quickly to undo the chain before opening it again and ushering Jillian inside. “I’m glad to see you, don’t think I’m not, but what are you doing here?” She pulled her into a quick hug, then pushed her back gently by the shoulders, looking over her for any obvious signs of distress. “It’s late. And it’s a school night.”

“I know. I just couldn’t go back— and see—she—I don’t know. Needed to get away.” The stuttered response didn’t give Rebecca a whole lot of information, but it did give her a direction. She tugged Jillian by the hand into her kitchen, and sat her down at the table amidst the piles of paperwork. 

“I have some of that hot chocolate you like. Do you want some?”

Jillian nodded shyly, looking at the ground.

Rebecca busied herself for several minutes heating up water in a tea kettle, finding two mugs (mismatched, of course, because she’d never been able to keep track of a whole set for long), and adding several spoonfuls of the hot chocolate mix to the mugs. She made a bit of a show of adding extra chocolate to Jillian’s mug, which earned her a small, pathetic smile. By the time she added the hot milk, Jillian looked just a tiny bit brighter, so Rebecca tossed a handful of marshmallows into Jillian’s mug for good measure and set it in front of her. She ruffled Jillian’s wild curls lovingly before returning to the kitchen. Her cupboards weren’t exactly overflowing— she had been so busy with her classes she hadn’t been able to pick up groceries— but she kept a handful of things available that she knew Jillian liked, as it wasn’t _that_ uncommon for her to show up unannounced. She quickly put together a peanut butter and honey sandwich, cutting it into intentionally asymmetrical triangles (it drove them both crazy), and added a short stack of Pringles to the plate before grabbing her own mug and sitting back down, opposite Jillian. Rebecca pushed the plate toward her. Jillian never turned down food, and she didn’t disappoint tonight, crunching loudly on the chips while Rebecca sipped at her own hot chocolate, absently shuffling the forgotten papers.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Jillian looked up, mid-bite, and shook her head.

“Alright. I think we should let Miss Sarah know that you’re safe and you’ll be back in time for school tomorrow. Don’t you?” Jillian shrugged, continuing to chew, and avoiding the question. “I’ll give her a call. Finish your sandwich.” She stood up and moved into the hallway, picking up the receiver of her phone and punching in the number to Jillian’s group home. When Sarah answered, Rebecca could tell she had been asleep, and she sounded surprised that Jillian had managed to slip out. Because Sarah knew Rebecca well by this point, she consented for Jillian to stay overnight and be dropped off at school in the morning. Rebecca hung up the receiver and returned to her seat at the table, ignoring the questioning look she got from Jillian. “Is all of your homework for tomorrow completed?” 

“‘Cept for calculus,” she mumbled into her plate.

“You can finish it while I finish grading these papers, then. Unless you’d rather tell me about what’s bothering you?” Rebecca pointedly lifted an eyebrow in question.

“I should probably finish my homework.”

 _Stalemate,_ Rebecca thought, though she knew it would be. Emotions were a cloudy and uncertain thing, whereas the solid guarantee of numbers in an equation had a comforting effect. They were predictable in their function, even if you didn’t know exactly what the end result would be. She had buried her own troubles behind theorems and the absolute value of _x_ more times than she could count; it didn’t seem fair to deny Jillian the same opportunity to channel whatever she was feeling into something productive. Jillian pulled out her textbook, and Rebecca resumed her grading, so they worked in silence for a while, pen scratching on paper the only sound between them. 

Jillian called it quits first, finishing up the last of the problems out of her textbook. She closed it with a yawn. 

“I’m done for tonight, too. You know where the guest bedroom is. Do you need anything?” The _guest_ bedroom had long since become Jillian’s bedroom, though she did not technically live there. There were a few changes of clothing in the dresser drawers, and an assortment of toiletries in the hall bathroom, that all belonged to Jillian. Rebecca made a mental note to get Jillian a key to the apartment.

“A hug?”

“Of course.” They both stood, and Rebecca pulled Jillian into a hug. She was surprised by the almost-bruising strength with which Jillian returned the embrace. She lightly kissed the top of her head before pulling back. “I have a surprise, before you head off to bed.” Rebecca grinned. “I was going to wait until your birthday next week, but since you’re here and could use some cheering up, I’d like to give it to you early.” She let go of Jillian and disappeared down the hall, returning a moment later with a small rectangular package that was wrapped— rather clumsily— with bright green, shimmery paper. Jillian eyed the gift suspiciously, but couldn’t quite hide her curiosity and delight, despite whatever was troubling her. Rebecca handed it over, laughing as the wrapping paper was unceremoniously shredded and crumpled. 

Inside the box, Jillian found a simple cellular phone. It took a couple of minutes before she could find her words, so Rebecca filled in the gap. “I added you to my cell phone plan. We’ll have to share minutes, but I think we can do that just fine,” she winked. “There’s nothing too fancy about it, but my Nokia has survived some pretty rough stuff. Turn it on.”  Jillian pressed the little power button at the top of the phone and waited for the backlit screen to settle. “I went ahead and put my phone number in the contacts section, so I’m only ever a phone call away. I want you to use it. Will you? Promise?”

“This is perfect. Thank you so much,” Jillian nodded, and proceeded to crush Rebecca in another hug.

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe you can help me figure out how to work mine better.” That was a ruse, and they both knew it, though neither one said anything. Rebecca could probably have _built_ her little Nokia phone with some substantial upgrades, and maybe even hacked into the cell phone towers. “Alright, time for bed. I think we should talk about what’s bothering you in the morning. I’ll even make my famous waffles.” Another ruse— waffles were the _only_ breakfast food Rebecca knew how to make, but Jillian loved them anyway, and never turned them down. She gave a small nod, and an even smaller smile, as Rebecca turned her around by the shoulders and pointed her toward the guest— no, _Jillian_ ’s— room. 

Things always felt a little easier to deal with after a good night’s sleep, and breakfast, of course. So after Rebecca got herself ready for her own classes and tasks for the day, she endeavored to make her best version of the only breakfast food she knew how to make, with the limited supplies she had on hand. It wasn’t anything fancy, but by the time Jillian shuffled sleepily to the table, there was a stack of blueberry waffles with an ungodly amount of whipped cream topping them waiting for her. 

“Good morning. Sleep all right?”

Jillian nodded, shuffling— since her only morning speed was a _shuffle_ — into her seat at the table. She wasted no time in dumping a waterfall of syrup onto her waffles and tearing into them. Rebecca poured them each a glass of orange juice, and joined her at the table with her own plate. They ate in silence for a while ( _relative_ silence— Jillian’s chewing could barely be called _quiet_ ), until Rebecca finally went for it. 

“So, walk me through what brought you to my door last night.” It wasn’t a question, but her tone was still gentle while she waited for Jillian to swallow a huge mouthful of breakfast, and wash it down with a gulp of orange juice.

“It’s not a big deal—“

“I do not buy that for a minute, Jillian. So how about you back up and try again, and we can work together to sort it out.” Again, not a question, but a whip-crack demand tempered only by her gentle tone. If something, or someone, caused Jillian to feel like she had to run away, Rebecca was going to get to the bottom of it. There would be no wiggling out of this one.

“There’s this girl…at home. And I thought— well, we were, you know… _kissingandstuff_.”

“Ok…” She waited patiently as Jillian squirmed in her seat, trying to buy herself some time by inhaling another huge bite of waffle. Rebecca knew this tactic all too well, and had more patience to wait it out than Jillian could have ever guessed. There were only so many waffles left before she’d run out of food to hide behind. Just in case, Rebecca mentally reviewed the steps of the Heimlich maneuver.

“So I thought, you know, that we were dating. And I overheard one of the other girls ask her about me. And she said I was just—just p-practice.” She tipped her head down, staring intently at the puddle of syrup left on her plate, drawing random little symbols in it with her fork. “So I left.”

“That was wrong and unfair of her to be so careless with your feelings. I wish I could say that nothing like that will ever happen again, but feelings are tricky. What do you think could have been done differently, to ensure you both were on the same page?”

Jillian shrugged.

“No, that’s not an answer. Think about it from a scientific perspective, if that helps to simplify it. What was the observation you made, incorrectly or not?” 

“That we were dating.”

“Ok, what question does that lead to?”

“Were we really dating?”

“Good. And your hypothesis?”

“If we were kissing, that means we were dating?”

“You know the steps. What comes next?”

“Experiment?” She giggled a little at that. 

“How do you _test_ whether or not kissing meant you were dating?”

“I should have asked if kissing meant we were dating. Before I assumed my hypothesis was correct.”

“That’s a good start. And a good plan for the future, don’t you think?”

Jillian nodded, looking a little brighter. 

“There’s one more thing we should probably discuss.” It was Rebecca’s turn to stumble over her words. This was a place she never anticipated finding herself in. A scientist (albeit, a student) in a challenging field of study, multiple publications under her belt, her own lectures, free-reign over a laboratory, more letters of recommendation than she could count. But here she was, trying to work out how to have “the talk” with a teenager, and her brain was tragically failing. Jillian tilted her head to the side curiously, waiting. “I understand that you were kissing, and maybe doing other things, with a girl. I just want to be sure you know how to be safe about…things…” She pushed her glasses higher up on her nose, at an absolute loss for words.

“You mean like, diseases and stuff?”

“Yes,” she coughed. “Diseases and stuff. And how to prevent pregnancy, should the…situation…arise.”

“We had that class during P.E. last year. I know how it works.”

“Ok.” Rebecca blew out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “If you have any questions, you can always ask.” It was the coward’s way out of that part of the conversation, but Rebecca took it shamelessly. “Equally important, though, do you understand what it means to give consent? And that it is solely your decision to give consent or not, and your right to retract it at any time. Does that make sense?” Rebecca could feel her cheeks burning, and judging from the red hue now coloring Jillian’s cheeks, she wasn’t faring any better.

“It’s always my choice, just like it’s always my partner’s choice, to only go as far as either of us is comfortable?”

“Ok. Exactly. I just want to be sure you never feel pressured to allow more than you are comfortable with, no matter who your partner is.” 

_Whew._

And now that _that_ conversation was settled, Rebecca shooed her off to finish getting ready while she cleared up the dishes from breakfast, and packed a lunch for Jillian to take with her to school. 

 


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a two part chapter.

Something was amiss with Jillian, that much she knew for certain. It happened slowly; so slowly, in fact, that Rebecca couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started. After she had graduated high school last summer, _two semesters early_ , something had shifted, but that had only been the beginning. Rebecca helped Jillian get a job as her full-time teaching assistant (Oh, the strings she’d had to pull to make _that one_ happen), and helped her wade through all the documentation to become legally emancipated from the foster care system after graduating. Despite all of that, things were going as well as could be expected for a time of tough transitions. Jillian moved out of the group home, and into her unofficial room in Rebecca’s apartment for the summer, with the expectation of living in the M.I.T. dormitories once fall classes resumed, though she did enroll in a full course load for the summer. It was then Rebecca started to see certain behavioral changes that perplexed her. One day, Jillian would be chattery and _driven_ , up all night taking apart various discarded electronics she had discovered in the handful of dumpsters she passed on her way when she chose to walk home (an endeavor which thoroughly repulsed Rebecca, though she never discouraged it). Then in the following days, she would be positively miserable— an Eeyore’d version of her normal self— before the cycle would resume. 

Rebecca was a scientist, and keen observation was one of her strongest skills. During one of Jillian’s particularly chatty days, she decided to make dinner for them. She knew pasta was one of Jillian’s favorites, and when Jillian popped through the door that evening, the whole apartment smelled delicious. 

“I’m glad you’re home! I thought we could have a quiet evening in, have dinner and look over the course catalog for next semester. What do you think?” 

“Uh, I’m not really hungry,” she mumbled, shifting from foot to foot, adjusting the strap of her backpack, picking at her fingernail. Anything except making eye contact with Rebecca.

“Oh, come on. You love pasta. And we do need to figure out what classes you plan to take this fall, so we can get your scholarship situated.”

“Ok. Yeah, you’re right. I haven’t even looked,” she agreed reluctantly.

“Great. Go put your stuff away and wash up for dinner. It will be ready in ten minutes.” She watched Jillian, who appeared decidedly spooked, retreat quickly and finished preparing their meal. 

By the time Jillian returned, Rebecca had added tomato sauce to her own noodles, and to Jillian’s she’d added more butter than was probably healthy. Depositing their plates on the table, she waited for Jillian to shuffle back down the hallway and take her seat at the table.

Dinner was mostly uneventful and quiet, which was not uncommon for them. Rebecca  surreptitiously studied Jillian, watching push her noodles around in circles with her fork, in what she assumed was an attempt to look awfully busy eating without _actually_ eating. The second Rebecca finished her pasta, Jillian jumped up to clear the dishes away, having barely touched her own dinner. 

“I have a copy of the course catalog in the living room. Let’s look through it in there,” Rebecca suggested, mildly annoyed when Jillian nodded in response without turning around from the sink. She stared at Jillian’s back for a moment, watching her scrub furiously at their dishes. “Thank you for cleaning up. Come join me when you’re done.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Jillian was still in the kitchen pretending to be busy cleaning. Rebecca’s patience had worn thin already, and by the time she stalked back into the kitchen, she was ready to demand answers. Past experience, however, had taught her that ambushing Jillian would only result in her shutting down completely. Rebecca took a moment to calm herself before she cornered Jillian, who was still facing the sink, scrubbing at an already-clean bowl. The rush of water from the tap inadvertently disguised the sound of Rebecca approaching, and when she placed her hand lightly on her shoulder, Jillian startled, dropping the dish in the sink and earning a cut on her palm, between her thumb and forefinger. She hissed, bringing the cut to her mouth, her eyes wide. That was not the reaction Rebecca had been expecting, and she subconsciously took a half-step backwards.

“Whoa. Hey, hey. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you—” she reached for Jillian’s wrist without thinking, and Jillian didn’t resist when Rebecca began to examine the cut closely. She pushed Jillian’s hand beneath the stream of water in the sink. “Let’s get this rinsed out and covered. I can finish the dishes.” She held Jillian’s hand under the water for thirty seconds, feeling the thrum of her erratic, thready pulse beneath her fingers. “Your heart is _racing_. Are you alright?” Rebecca temporarily abandoned her observational experiment, suddenly very concerned. Holding onto Jillian’s wrist firmly, she counted the beats of her pulse while watching the second hand on her wristwatch. She didn’t even make it to ten seconds before Jillian pulled her hand away roughly, drying it off on her shirt.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. I just have a lot of homework that I’m stressed about.”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow in disbelief, fishing a band-aid out of a drawer and handing it to Jillian.

“Are your courses too demanding? We can make adjustments if that would help.”

“No, they’re fine. It’s fine. I just—need to get started on my homework.” 

Rebecca sighed, moving out of the way to let Jillian bolt out of the kitchen, against her better judgement. 

                                                                                                              xxx

The following morning, the nervous energy that had pervaded the previous evening was gone, replaced by general moroseness. When it was time to leave for campus, Jillian stomped noisily down the hall and stuffed herself into the front passenger seat to wait for Rebecca. When Rebecca finally slid into the driver’s seat, she cast a sidelong glance at Jillian, who was sulking, but didn’t press. Whatever was going on would come out eventually. 

The drive to school was silent. When they arrived on campus, before Rebecca could even put the car in park, Jillian had stormed out and slammed the door behind her. Rationally, Rebecca knew whatever was going on had nothing to do with her, but it took constant reminding herself of that to not take it personally. After all, Jillian was still a teenager, and emotional maturity—well, maturity in general— wasn’t exactly her gift. They would see each other again around lunch, when Jillian usually napped in her office between classes, and maybe her attitude would have improved by then. 

Rebecca glanced at her clock for the third time in fifteen minutes. It was unlike Jillian to not show up in her office by noon. Nap time was _precious,_ after all. It was Tuesday, which meant Jillian had a chemistry lab before her break. _Maybe she’s caught up finishing a lab_ , Rebecca reasoned, stuffing down the urge to go and check. She tried to busy herself with grading papers, but as another thirty minutes rolled by, she was becoming more anxious and worried. She was reluctant to go hunt down Jillian and infringe upon her space and autonomy, but damn if it wasn't worrying her with every minute that passed. Finally, _45 minutes later_ , she decided not to wait any longer. If Jillian was just busy with a lab assignment, she would leave her alone, but she needed to calm her nerves and reassure herself that nothing was wrong since she hadn’t heard from her. Rebecca gathered herself and stalked down the hall to the chemistry lab, braced for a fight. Without knocking, she pushed the door to the lab open, recoiling quickly when a offensive odor ambushed her senses, causing her to cough and her eyes to water. She shoved the door closed again without entering, and took a moment to clear her throat and wipe her eyes. Pulling the lapel of her lab coat up over her nose and mouth, Rebecca shouldered the door open again and entered cautiously.

The first thing she noticed was Jillian’s odd space-cat backpack on one of the empty tables, in the otherwise empty room. The very next thing she noticed as she approached the abandoned backpack was Jillian crumpled on the floor next to the fume hood, unconscious. Rebecca dropped her makeshift mask and crouched down beside Jillian, worry emanating off every line of her body.

“Jillian. Jillian, what happened?” she questioned, shaking Jillian by the shoulder. Each second that passed felt like an eternity, until Jillian opened her eyes. Rebecca helped her sit up, and Jillian coughed and sputtered for a minute. Rebecca could tell that she was disoriented by the glazed look in her red-rimmed eyes, and the blue tinge to her lips wasn’t helping ease Rebecca’s worry any. Realization set in when Rebecca connected the dots, and she shot up from the ground to hit the emergency button on the hood, which immediately hummed to life, vacuuming out the toxic fumes. Suspecting the fumes to have played a part, Rebecca pulled the collar of Jillian’s shirt up over her nose and mouth to try minimize continued exposure, and helped Jillian stand up. Jillian was still wobbly on her feet, and leaned heavily on Rebecca as they shuffled out of the lab. Rebecca shouted at a student walking past, instructing the girl to call campus security and close off the chemistry lab until the fumes were gone. She helped Jillian sit down, her back against the wall, her breathing short and raspy.

“Jillian, look at me. Can you tell me what happened?”

Jillian couldn’t answer, the effort to breathe becoming increasingly worse by the second.  She gasped sharply, her eyes becoming wild as she struggled to get enough air. Rebecca pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed 9-1-1, willing herself not to panic. She didn’t know what to do beyond calling for help, and remained on the ground, holding Jillian until the paramedics arrived and whisked her away. 

                                                                                                       xxx

The tangle of nerves Rebecca had been swallowing formed a hard knot in her stomach as she drove to the hospital, following several minutes behind the paramedics since she did not have the luxury of a siren. Though she didn’t fully understand what had happened, to the best of her knowledge, Jillian had passed out from exposure to some type of fume, but she didn’t know what kind, and Jillian hadn’t been in any shape to tell her. When she arrived at the hospital, she was able to find out where Jillian had been taken, and she hurried into the med bay, brushing the curtain aside. Relief washed over her when she saw Jillian sitting up, eyes half-closed, an oxygen cannula in her nose replacing the mask that she’d had when the ambulance left, and various wires attached to her beneath the hospital gown. There was a nurse scribbling onto a chart who waved Rebecca in. Making her way over to the chair nearest the bed, she dropped into it gracelessly as the nurse shuffled out to go get Jillian’s doctor.

“Hi,” Jillian croaked, pulling at the oxygen tubing on her face, but didn’t make eye contact.

“No, no. Leave that alone,” Rebecca gently pushed her hands away from the plastic tubing and held them. “Jillian, what happened?”

“I’m fine.”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “Ok, but what _happened?_ ”

“I don’t really remember,” she shrugged. “I was working on a lab experiment, and I guess I passed out.”

“She’s suffered an acute inhalation injury,” a feminine voice behind them said quietly. Rebecca turned around to see a dark-haired woman in scrubs and a lab coat, carrying a clipboard. “When the two chemicals in her lab experiment mixed together, it created toxic fumes that impair the body’s ability to pull oxygen from inspired air, which caused hypoxemia. She’ll be fine. She just needs to spend a little time on 100% oxygen to help clear the chemical residue from her respiratory system, and should be able to go home later tonight.”

She thanked the doctor, and asked a few more questions before they were left on their own. Jillian didn’t appear to be in a talking mood and sulked quietly on bed, messing with the oxygen cannula and pulse oximeter on her finger every few minutes out of sheer annoyance. Rebecca knew it was hard for Jillian to just _sit_ on a good day, and whatever had gotten under Jillian’s skin seemed to be driving her irritation and restlessness to an all-time high. Without commenting, Rebecca thumbed through a magazine without actually reading anything. It was the most awkward silence they had ever endured together, punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the monitors that Rebecca had quickly grown irritated with. After almost two hours, Rebecca had had enough.

“I’m going to run back to campus and gather my things so we can go straight home. They said you should be ready to go in a few hours.”

“I think I left my backpack in the lab. Could you grab it?”

“Sure. I’ll be back soon.”

 

The lab had been cleared hours ago, and by the time Rebecca returned to campus, the door was open again. She only intended to grab Jillian’s backpack, which had been left on the table in all the commotion. She grabbed it by one of the shoulder straps, pulling it across the table, but paused when a small plastic bag half full of peach-colored pills fell out of the front pocket and scattered on the ground. Frowning, Rebecca bent down to gather them up, taking note of the marking scored onto each side of the pill. She stuffed the plastic bag into her pocket, none of her worry easing.

Rebecca didn’t mention her find right away when she returned to the hospital a couple of hours later, swinging Jillian’s backpack lightly onto the bed. The look of panic that crossed Jillian’s face when she saw the open front pocket, pills missing, was confirmation enough for her concerns. She decided, perhaps cruelly, to let Jillian squirm while the nurse prepared discharge paperwork and got them out the door.

 

They drove in strained silence for a few minutes, until Rebecca finally snapped, smacking the steering wheel with the palm of her hand when they stopped at a red light. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“No.”

“I apologize. That sounded like I was giving you a choice. Tell me what is going on.”

“There’s nothing going on. I made a mistake.” Jillian stared out the window, toying with the plastic hospital band still on her wrist. “I was in a hurry and messed up.”

“There’s nothing else you’d like to tell me?”

Jillian only shrugged in answer, shrinking into herself. Rebecca drummed her fingers against the wheel, and when the light turned green she accelerated, but quickly turned into an empty lot and slammed her old station wagon into park.

“We are not doing this. You’re _not_ getting out of this one. I need answers.” Her anger was white hot and blistering, and sharply focused on Jillian, who looked like she would crawl out of the window, given the opportunity. Rebecca pulled the plastic bag out of her pocket, turning to face Jillian. “What are these?” It was a bluff; Rebecca already knew what they were after doing a little internet research, but she wasn’t going to make this easy. Jillian’s face went grey.

“Advil,” she stammered, shifting her gaze to stare intensely at the sun visor.

“I’m not an idiot, Jillian!” Rebecca was shouting now, unable to hold back the frustration. “I know exactly what these are! What I don’t understand is why they were in your backpack.” 

The shouting had been a mistake, Rebecca realized, and immediately regretted it. Jillian opened the car door and bolted without looking back.

 


	8. 8

Rebecca sat in disbelief for several minutes after the car door slammed while she watched the alley Jillian had disappeared down. The white hot anger that had been boiling in her blood just moments before dissolved, replaced by a hard knot of guilt in her belly. It had been a mistake to raise her voice, to corner Jillian in the car, to take away her “out,” and Rebecca was already berating herself internally. She waited in the parking spot (an exercise in futility—she _knew_ Jillian wasn’t going to turn around—but she waited anyway), hoping Jillian would have a change of heart and come back. 

Twenty minutes later, with no sign of Jillian, Rebecca reversed out of the parking lot and drove around the buildings to search. The sun was almost completely down, and the long shadows cast from the buildings created black areas that could easily hide a scrawny teenager trying to remain out of sight. On top of all the inherent dangers already present in wandering around Boston at night, Rebecca was worried about Jillian’s breathing. Just a matter of hours ago, she had passed out from oxygen deprivation and though her respiratory parameters had returned to normal, there was no way jogging downtown so soon was good for her still-fragile lungs. 

When she returned home, Rebecca dialed the number of every person or place she knew that Jillian could possibly have decided to run off to. The list was sparse; the old group home, the ice cream shop. She didn’t really believe Jillian would return to her group home after working so hard to get out of there, but desperation made Rebecca dial anyway. She dialed Jillian’s cell phone anxiously, but after several rings, all Rebecca got was voicemail. She dialed again.

_Jillian, where are you? I’m sorry I yelled. Please call me back. I’ll come pick you up._

 

She spent the rest of the evening pacing her small apartment, checking her cell phone every 30 seconds, just in case, and watching out the window for Jillian to come trotting up the walk in her heavy combat boots. Every few minutes she dialed Jillian’s phone number again.

 

_Please call me back. I’m worried. I just want to know where you are and that you're safe._

 

_Jillian, it’s ok if you need some space. I understand. I need to know that you’re safe._

 

_Please, Jillian. Please. I’m begging. I promise I’m not mad. I’m worried. It doesn’t matter where you are, I’ll come get you, even in the middle of the night. I need to know that you’re safe._

 

_I’m sorry. Please come home. I love you. Come home._

 

She dialed one more time, but the phone went straight to voicemail.

 

It was nearly midnight, with no sign of Jillian, when Rebecca decided to go to bed. She  knew she wouldn’t really be able to sleep, though, and would be listening for signs of Jillian all night. It wasn’t the first time Jillian had run away, but it was the first time Jillian had run away from _her._ Rebecca had always been the safe space for Jillian to escape to, and now because she had let her frustration and worry get the better of her, Jillian didn’t trust the one person she had always been able to count on. 

The guilt was ripping Rebecca to shreds. 

She left the porch light on and left the front door unlocked, just in case. Jillian had also missed dinner, and if she happened to come back home tonight, Rebecca didn’t want her to go hungry. She put together a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich, set a stack of Pringles next to it, and left it out in plain sight like the most absurd Santa Claus ritual. The last the she did before she trudged into her bedroom was to leave a small, handwritten note.

 

_Jillian,_

_I’m glad you’re home. I’m so sorry I yelled at you and that I made you feel so cornered that your only option was to run. I’m worried about you, and really only want the best for you. We need to talk, but I will wait until you’re ready. I love you._

_Rebecca_

 

 

Rebecca had no idea what time it was when her bedroom door creaked farther open. A  sliver of light crashed through the crack, backlighting a familiar silhouette that she recognized even without her glasses on. She had tossed and turned so much that her blanket was tangled around her legs. Rebecca hadn’t really been sleeping anyway. She thought that waiting for Jillian in the living room if or when she came home would make Jillian feel trapped again; Rebecca did not want to repeat that mistake. She snapped up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed with too much force, driven by relief, but she paused when Jillian winced and stepped back from the door.

“Please don’t hate me.” Jillian’s voice was small and raw and despondent.

“Come here,” Rebecca pleaded quietly, “I don’t want to fight. I’m glad you’re home.” Rebecca turned on the lamp on her nightstand and pushed on her glasses. Jillian went silent again, shifting on the balls of her feet as she appeared to consider Rebecca’s plea, but the tension rolling off her slight frame was palpable and souring quickly. “Jillian, please,” she sighed, reaching her arms out. 

That seemed to decide it for Jillian, who all but crept into the room and into Rebecca’s waiting arms like a guilty puppy. Rebecca wasn’t much for hugs, or showy fits of emotion, but since day one she had always made the exception for Jillian, who was most easily reassured by physical contact and closeness. Without reserve, she wrapped her arms around Jillian so tightly, breathing in the scent of her hair, her clothes, her skin. Jillian was limp in her arms, and offered no resistance when Rebecca helped her kick off her combat boots and pulled her all the way into the bed without letting go. She laid back, holding Jillian against her body, and let the girl cry and sniffle into her shoulder. She kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry I yelled at you. That wasn’t fair,” she apologized for the hundredth time. Rebecca ran her fingers through Jillian’s mussed curls, relieved to have her home safely. It had only been a matter of a few hours, but Rebecca couldn’t stand another second of the awkward tension between them now. “Let’s get some rest, hm? Will you sleep in here with me tonight?”

She felt Jillian nod ever so slightly against her shoulder. They settled into the bed quietly, and Rebecca felt her worry dissipate. Even though Jillian was home, and literally safe in her arms, the stress of the entire day settled on them both like dust.  Neither of them got any decent sleep.

 

Rebecca slipped out of the bed and her bedroom silently the next morning. Jillian had finally fallen asleep after about an hour, but it had been fitful. Since she was currently still and sleeping, Rebecca decided not to wake her up. She noticed the sandwich she had made for Jillian was untouched, but the Pringles and her handwritten note were both gone. Smiling sadly to herself, she made waffles and eggs for their breakfast and set the table.

Eventually, the smell of breakfast must have woken Jillian, and she walked carefully into the kitchen. Her hair was even more wild than it was the night before, her clothes were rumpled, and her socks didn’t match, but she cautiously took a seat at the table without looking Rebecca in the eye. She reminded Rebecca again, as she had done so many times before, of a scared, wild animal. 

“Good morning,” Rebecca said quietly, setting down a plate of food in front of Jillian. She had drawn a goofy face in whipped cream on Jillian’s waffle, which earned her a small smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I’m starving,” she said. 

“Eat up. There’s plenty if you want more.” Rebecca sat down with her own plate and ate quietly while Jillian inhaled her own food. When Jillian was finished, she reached for another waffle, and inhaled that, too. She had probably missed a meal or two, but she definitely made up for it with breakfast. Finally, Rebecca broke the silence. “I’ve asked your professors to send my any work you might miss for today. I think we should take some time and have a conversation, if you feel ready.”

“I think so,” she slurped the last of her orange juice.

“I will make you a deal. I will not yell or get mad at anything you tell me, and you give me honest answers. We are both adult enough to do that, and I think we owe it to each other. What do you think?”

“You’re right,” she said with a small nod.

“Let’s go into the living room and get comfortable.” Rebecca stood, lightly taking ahold of Jillian’s wrist and pulling her into the living room. Past experience had taught her that difficult conversations were always easier for Jillian if she didn’t have to make eye contact, so she sat down and gently pushed Jillian to the ground between her legs, facing away. She started pulling the bobby pins out of Jillian’s hair and working through the tangles with her fingers.

“Do you want to go first? And start from the beginning?” She felt Jillian shrug against her legs. “Ok. I’ll ask the questions, then. What happened in the lab?”

“I don’t really know. I thought I had done the experiment correctly, but maybe I didn’t mix the chemicals in the right amounts? I was distracted.”

At least she wasn’t being evasive.

“Alright. Distracted by what?”

Jillian shrugged again.

“Is there anything else going on that you want to tell me?” Rebecca paused at Jillian’s guilty look. “It doesn’t matter what it is, Jillian. I love you no matter what, and if something is going on, we can figure it out together.”

“Well,” she sighed dramatically, “you already found the pills.”

“I did. But I want to hear this from you, so I can understand.”

“They’re Adderall. One of the girls in my literature class takes them, and I bought some from her.”

“But why?” Jillian was confirming information that Rebecca already knew; what she didn’t understand yet was why Jillian had started taking Adderall to begin with.

“It’s just— there’s just a lot,” she made a noise Rebecca hadn’t heard from her before; something between a grunt and a moan, a physical effort to minimize her discomfort. “I want to do well, and I was struggling to keep up.”

“I wish you had come to me and told me you were overwhelmed. We could have made some adjustments to your course load. We still can make adjustments. In fact, we will.”

“Yeah, I know. I should have told you.”

“You’re such a smart girl. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is to take medication that was not prescribed for you.”

“I know.”

“Is that everything that I should know about?” Jillian nodded emphatically. “I really don’t want to have to find out anything like this ever again, ok? I promised I wouldn’t get mad, and I’m not, but I’m disappointed that you felt like you had to hide your struggle from me, and it ended with you misusing medication and causing a serious accident.”

“You’ve been so nice to me and you always help me, and I didn’t want to disappoint you.” She looked nauseated and defeated.

“I appreciate that you want to work hard and do well, but it’s not worth taking on so much that your physical and mental health suffer. You and I need to do better at communicating with each other, so we don’t end up with dangerous secrets like this again. I’d be so much more upset to find out you've been struggling than I would be if you asked for help. I will NEVER be upset with you for asking for help.”

“I know,” Jillian was starting to sound more like a normal, annoyed teenager by the moment. 

“This can’t happen again. Ever. You can’t run away from me. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Do you have any more Adderall?”

“That was all of them,” she shook her head. 

“I believe you. I’m not your mother, and it isn’t my place to impose consequences for your actions, but we are family and I love you very much, so I’m going to make a suggestion. I think talking to a professional is a good idea. It’s up to you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Rebecca nodded.

“Rebecca?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I ran.”

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I cornered you and yelled.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Jillian, you _never_ have to ask.”

 


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't even a real chapter, but I needed a break from thinking about *serious* things. Just a minute of silliness.

Rebecca laughed nervously and tossed the keys to her old station wagon to Jillian, who caught them effortlessly. Jillian was bouncing on the balls of her feet as they left the Department of Motor Vehicles, and her enthusiasm was equally matched by Rebecca’s trepidation. For her birthday, Jillian’s only requests were to get her learner’s permit and for Rebecca to teach her how to drive, so she acquiesced, and here they were on a chilly evening in November. Jillian was proudly sporting her permit, complete with her picture (though she’d had to remove the yellow-lensed glasses for the photo), positively beaming. The parking lot adjacent to the DMV was empty at this hour, and since Jillian _just couldn’t wait,_ Rebecca agreed to give her first lesson. She was a little concerned because the sun was setting and she already disliked driving at night; letting Jillian take the wheel as the shadows began to give way to complete darkness made her worry.

Jillian whooped enthusiastically and climbed into the driver’s seat. While Rebecca situated herself in the passenger seat, buckling and tightening her seatbelt, Jillian turned the key and immediately cranked up the volume on the rarely-used radio, filling the car with white noise while she tried to adjust the sound. Rebecca reached over and turned it all the way down, shaking her head.

“No radio. You need to focus,” she admonished.

“But music helps me focus,” Jillian whined.

“I appreciate that. But we’re going to have to do some communicating and I don’t want to talk over the radio.”

“Driver’s choice,” she argued, “whoever is driving gets to pick the music.”

“Responsible Adult’s Decision. Whoever is responsible for the student driver decides whether there is music or not,” she countered.

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“One of the benefits of age, darling.” Rebecca winked at her. “Seatbelt, please. I should not have to remind you about that.”

“Alllllllriiiiiiiight.” She buckled up without protest. 

“Can you see ok?” Rebecca noticed Jillian was sitting up extra tall, straining to see in front of her. She was only 5’3”, and the old station wagon was enormous. Jillian rolled her eyes, and twisted the key the rest of way, her face splitting into a grin as the old engine hummed to life. “It’s getting dark. I can’t see the gear marks.” She reached behind her and flipped on the dome light.

“Why not just turn on the headlights? You’re going to need them anyway, and when they are on, the indicators are illuminated. No need for the dome light.” Rebecca reached back this time and flipped the dome light off.

“Oooh, cool.”

Rebecca snorted. 

“Check your mirrors, and then physically look for hazards before you back out of the space. Do you know which pedal is which?”

“No?”

 _How in the hell did she pass the permit test?_  

“The right pedal is the gas, and the left pedal is the brake. Depress the brake before you try to shift the car out of park, or you won’t be able to.” Jillian nodded, pressing the brake pedal and shifting the car into reverse. “We’re staying in the parking lot for today. You can back out slowly, then shift into drive and turn left. _Slowly.”_ Jillian nodded, shakily shifting the car into reverse, turning as she did. “Good. Now shift into drive and accelerate forward.” Jillian’s movements were unpracticed and jerky. She accelerated, and when spooked by the climbing speed, jammed her foot down on the brake pedal, pitching both of them forward and then back in their seats. “What was that?” Rebecca questioned, readjusting her glasses on her face. 

“I was going too fast.”

“I don’t think you were even going five miles per hour. I’m sorry, I should have specified. Just keep it under fifteen for today. We’ll work up from there.” Jillian nodded again, and Rebecca could see her biting her tongue, a sure sign she was trying to concentrate. “Let’s go again. You can accelerate a little more, just don’t press the pedal to the floor.”

This time, Jillian accelerated more smoothly, though Rebecca could tell she was still nervous, judging by the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel. She reached over, nudging Jillian lightly.

“Hey, relax. Take a breath. Don’t break the steering wheel.”

“Ok.” Jillian audibly inhaled and exhaled, stretching her fingers to relieve her death grip. 

“Let’s do a couple more laps around the parking lot, and if it goes well, you can drive us home.” 

The wild grin that took over Jillian’s face did not help Rebecca’s nerves at all, but she kept her concern stuffed down. Jillian was getting braver by the minute as she accelerated, and had worked herself up to a comfortable speed of fifteen miles per hour in the empty lot. They circled the empty rows a few times, and with every pass, the jerky accelerations became smoother. Rebecca could see Jillian relax into her seat, her hands finally light on the wheel. Every so often, Rebecca would interject and direct Jillian to “turn left up there,” or “turn right at the end of the row.” For her part, Jillian complied, reveling in the heightened challenge. She picked up the rhythm of slowing on the turns and accelerating on the straightaways quickly. Rebecca instructed her to turn into a different section of the parking lot, which would then take them to the actual street where they would head home now that it had become dark. Jillian nodded, driving toward the exit with ease. 

She wasn’t going particularly fast, but neither one of them saw the speed bump in the path until it was too late to slow down. The old station hit the disguised bump roughly, and the shocks did nothing to counter the impact and keep them in their seats. Jillian had been startled by the bump and let go of the wheel while simultaneously slamming her foot on the brake. Both actions caused them to lurch forward in their seats, and then lurch backwards from the momentum. 

They sat quietly for a minute.

“I guess we should have talked about speed bumps before now,” Rebecca croaked. 

“Whoops,” Jillian said quietly, taking on the air of a scolded puppy.

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Since it’s so dark now, how about I drive us home and we can pick this up again tomorrow?”

“I think that is a great idea.” Jillian left the car running and bounced out of the driver’s seat before Rebecca even had her seatbelt undone. They switched places quickly.

“You did a good job today. You can pick the music on the way home.” Rebecca preferred to end on a positive  note, so as not to create any feelings of anxiety regarding driving. Had it not been dark, she would have let Jillian drive them home anyway, but since that didn’t work out, Rebecca settled on sharing control of the radio. 

“Yes!” Jillian started cranking the dial, and settled on an 80’s hits station that they could both enjoy on the way home.


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a chapter between the last bit and this one about CERN, but after struggling with it for months and not liking the way it was turning out, I've decided to skip it and move on. If I can get it acceptably finished, I may go back and add it in, but we'll see.

Rebecca double-checked the address she had scrawled onto a scrap of paper before letting herself into the firehouse through a door that appeared to be public. Directly in front of her, there was a plain desk with a phone that did not appear to be connected to a landline, and an oblivious, but beautiful, man leaning back in his chair while blowing a huge bubble with his gum. Rebecca coughed lightly to get his attention, which resulted in him flailing backwards in his chair as the bubble popped, sticking to his face and glasses. He scrambled to claw it off his face, still apparently unaware of her presence. 

Rebecca’s attention was immediately drawn to the fire pole in the center of the open space because Jillian was sliding down it, no hands, screaming her name.

“REBECCA! YOU’RE HERE!” She landed with a thud, dropped into a somersault, and when she sprang out of it, she all but leapt into Rebecca’s waiting, open arms. “I’m so glad to see you!” 

“It’s been too long, Jilly,” she smiled, pulling her closer.

“What in the sweet hell is goin’ on down here?” They both turned to look at the source of the shouting— a woman coming down the stairwell, her expression a familiar blend of question, concern, and trepidation.

“Patty! Pats! My radiant sunflower! Come meet Dr. Gorin!” Jillian let go of Rebecca to bounce on her tiptoes, vibrating with excitement as the woman came down the last few steps. She grabbed Patty’s hand and dragged her the last few feet over, and presented her to Rebecca with a practiced, dramatic bow. 

Jillian had really dialed up her theatrics, Rebecca noted wryly.

“Rebecca, this is my princess-charming Patricia Tolan. Patty, this is my mentor, Dr. Rebecca Gorin. She’s here to visit for a whole week!” 

“Just Patty. None of that sunflower princess bullshit.” Patty smiled brightly, and pulled her hand out of Jillian’s with a look of resigned exasperation and barely-suppressed laughter— one that Rebecca recognized quickly. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Patty. Just Rebecca is fine.”

“Baby, you didn’t tell us we was having company,” Patty admonished quietly, resting her hands heavily on Jillian’s shoulders to ground some of her nervous, excited energy.  Rebecca decided right then that she liked Patty, who seemed to have an intuitive, calming presence that balanced out Jillian’s eccentric impulsiveness without extinguishing it.

“I didn’t? Oh,” she said, only sounding a little bothered by not mentioning Rebecca’s visit. 

“I booked a hotel room, so I hopefully won’t be imposing too much.”

“Not at all. You’re always welcome here,” Patty assured her. Rebecca watched Jillian with amusement during the exchange, noting Jillian’s dazed expression and the way she was looking at Patty with pure adoration. “Abby and Erin will be back in a little while. Why don’t you give your mentor the grand tour?” She nudged Jillian out of her daze.

“I’d love to see what you’re working on,” Rebecca prompted.

“Oh, all kinds of next-level stuff. You’re gonna flip your lid. The proton packs and the ghost chipper— oh, you should have _seen_ Patty with the ghost chipper!— and the proton glove  and shotgun and the nut cracker and the proton sax— I mean, that one is of questionable value, but it’s so _cool_ — do you want to hear the EVP?— and the containment unit and the PKE meter and—and—” Jillian sputtered, tripping over her own tongue. When the words failed her, she grabbed Rebecca’s hand and dragged her unceremoniously up the stairs to the second floor laboratory, leaving a bemused Patty in their wake, who called after them,

               “Holtzy, do NOT make her listen to that EVP!”

 

The “tour” ended up being quite remarkable. Rebecca could have spent hours in Jillian’s lab just observing her most favorite person ever bring to life equipment that would seem impossible in anyone else’s hands. Every prototype had a story to go with it— “Patty’s got such a strong arm, I thought proton grenades would work well for her,” and “Patty sucked this crazy ghost right off of me with the chipper, and she didn’t even slime Erin in the process!” Nearly all of them included some superhuman feat performed by Patty in the heat of a bust. Jillian was surprisingly humble when describing her own involvement in the creation or testing of her work. They spent the next several hours going over the nuclear readings for the various equipment prototypes until, while scanning the containment unit, they rounded the corner and happened upon two women.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here….” The taller of the two women spoke. The hesitation and apology in her voice grated Rebecca’s nerves immediately.

“What a ding-a-ling. I forgot to introduce—this is my mentor, Dr. Rebecca Gorin,” Jillian proudly introduced her.

“Dr. Gorin, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The darker-haired, shorter woman reached out to shake hands, but Rebecca ignored the gesture in favor of focusing on the display of the nuclear scanner in her hand.

“She doesn’t shake hands,” Jillian whispered.

“Jillian, you’re breeding fissile plutonium with insufficient criticality moderation. All someone has to do is sneeze too hard and this everyone in this building will disintegrate.”

“I know.” She looked like a kicked puppy. “I did bad.”

“And I have never been more proud of you”

“Really?” She beamed brightly under the praise.

“Mm. These are your colleagues?” 

“Yes,” Jillian pointed at the taller brassy-haired woman in skinny jeans and a plaid top, whom she had not yet introduced, “and we’re dating.”

“Yes,” the darker-haired woman in glasses concurred.

“No. I’m dating the receptionist.”

“What? No. That’s not accurate,” the darker-haired woman corrected.

“Whoops. Back to the drawing board on THAT one. Yeeeeeee.” 

She watched Jillian’s face fall, and her cocky, brash aura was quickly replaced with sheepish embarrassment. Her normally  quirky mannerisms immediately faded to uncomfortable shifting and stretching to physically dispel some of the internal tension she was experiencing. 

Rebecca knew those gestures well.

It hurt to see the shameful expression on Jillian’s face replaced by one of cautious enthusiasm, especially since Rebecca thought she had bounced back from the accident at CERN a lot faster. Apparently there was still some lingering insecurity under Jillian’s carefully-constructed mask. She eyed the brassy-haired woman cooly, bristled by her dismissive tone and casual brush off. Rebecca knew from past experience that it only made sense to wait until she could hear the full story, but already there was palpable tension building in the air between them. Rather than let it boil over, she redirected Jillian back to the containment unit and the two scientists went on their way.

 

Rebecca could have stayed in the extra bedroom at the firehouse. From what she could tell, most of the girls kept residences apart from their bunks on the third floor, including Jillian, though Rebecca doubted she spent many nights away from the lab. Rebecca didn’t want to impose, though, since at least one of the girls seemed uncomfortable in her presence, so she kept her reservation for a room at a hotel about three blocks away. She also knew, without Jillian having to say anything, that she was going to have company a little later in the evening. 

They decided as a group to go to Zhu’s for dinner. Rebecca was positive that if she had to listen to Abby extoll the virtues of wonton soup _one more time_ , her tenuous leash on her patience would snap. The little Chinese restaurant wasn’t quite up to her standard for dining out these days, but Jillian seemed enthusiastic about the food, so she went along with it without complaint. They started shuffling into the u-shaped booth, Patty toward the middle of the inside, Rebecca on the edge. Abby, Erin, and Jillian had collectively volunteered to go order for the group, which left Rebecca and Patty alone at the table. 

“So how did the two of you guys meet?” Leave it to Patty to ask those types of questions. She was always inquiring as to how people came to know and relate to each other, which Jillian had mentioned in passing one day while trying to prepare Rebecca for meeting her colleagues for the first time. “I mean, I know she was in the system and all, so I’m curious how you two crossed paths in the first place.”

“It’s a rather long and boring story…” Rebecca hedged. It was also a deeply personal story, for both her and Jillian. Something about Patty quieted, but did not erase, the unease she felt in telling it.

“Then I’d never get it out of Holtzy.” They both chuckled at the statement of fact. Communication had never been Jillian’s specialty. If it couldn’t be said in one run-on sentence and punctuated with a loud honk, she wasn’t going to say it.

“I first met _Jillian_ ,” Rebecca said pointedly—calling her “Holtzmann” or “Holtzy” just didn’t feel right. She was a scientist, not a football player— “when she was eight years old. I was a graduate student at the time, and working a part-time overnight job at the teaching hospital in Boston.” Rebecca cleared her throat, and her expression changed from nostalgic to sad. “Jillian’s mother had been brought in by paramedics for a drug overdose, and they brought Jillian with. I don’t know the specifics, but her mother died shortly after arriving. I thought the room had been cleared— it was silent and the lights were off— but when I went in I saw her sitting alone in a chair by her deceased mother, swinging her legs. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor.” At the memory, she cracked a sad smile. “An acquaintance of mine worked in Child and Family services, so I inquired, and was informed that Jillian had no relatives and they were waiting for a temporary foster home to come get her, but it likely wouldn’t be until morning.”

“They just left her sittin’ in there with her dead mom?” Patty scoffed in disbelief, folding her arms on the grimy table top.

“I’m sure they didn’t want to, but it was a particularly busy weekend and they were scrambling to keep up. I’m not very comfortable with children—”

“I could see that.”

Rebecca arched an eyebrow at Patty. “But I decided to wait with her until the foster family arrived. I didn’t realize I would become quite fond of her in just a few short hours. Through my social worker acquaintance, I was able to keep track of her in the foster care system, and make contact with her case worker, who suggested I participate in the Big Brother/Big Sister program. The case worker pulled some strings, and was able to get me paired up with her.

“My favorite part of this story was the day I took her to the lab with me for the first time. I had begun teaching by that point, and when the fall semester started, it conflicted with the time I normally spent with Jillian.  So one Friday afternoon, I ignored all of my better judgement and took her to the lab. My supervisor was not pleased, but he knew some of her story and relented as long as I agreed to properly supervise her. I explained the rules, and found her a lab coat meant for a petite student. It still hung down past her knees,” Rebecca smiled again at the memory, “and I found a pair of safety glasses for her, which were also too big. But once she put them on, I don’t think she ever took them off. She looked like she was dressed up for Halloween, and she followed me around the lab closer than my own shadow. I let her help me set up the stations for the lab that I was teaching that afternoon. It was a freshman-level class, and a very simple lab involving gravity. But she watched everything so _intently_ , and became something of a class pet for the students.”

“She still dresses like she’s ready for a hipster Halloween. I can just picture it.” Patty leaned back into the booth, getting more comfortable.

“That’s probably my fault. Of course I let her keep the lab coat and glasses.” Rebecca paused, sensing that there was a very fine line of confidentiality that she was crossing by telling this story to Patty. Jillian had not expressly given her permission to do so, but had never balked when Rebecca needed to relay parts of her history in order to help get her school classes arranged, or her placement in the lab. She decided to proceed, and censor a few things that were explicitly Jillian’s to share. “Things were going well. It was becoming easier to find the pieces of her personality in there, and she’d even engage with the students. Her foster family and case worker both reported that she was thriving. She was a fixture during Friday afternoon labs, and eventually we were able to get her dual-enrolled. But when she was fifteen, she was in the car with her foster parents when they were struck by another vehicle. Both adults were critically injured— the father ended up dying, and the mother was in the hospital for many weeks. Jillian was spared most of the impact, and was mostly just bruised and in shock, though her arm was broken. Because there was nobody else to call, Child and Family Services called me—probably at the behest of my acquaintance in the department, and I went to the hospital to stay with her while they ran their tests and monitored her vital signs.”

“Did the mother end up alright?” Patty interrupted.

“She did not die. But she had her husband’s death to process, and her own serious injuries to contend with. These things precluded her from continuing in the foster care program, and Jillian’s case worker had to make arrangements to place Jillian in a group home. I stayed with her all night, and rode with her to the group home when she was released in the morning. She didn’t speak at all, no matter how hard I tried. Finally, I had to leave her in the care of the group home coordinator.” She scowled. “That sounds so clinical. I had to jump through a few hoops to be able to start taking her out of the home on Friday afternoons again since the coordinator didn’t know me, so I wasn’t able to see her for a few weeks.

“One night, she had a particularly bad encounter with one of her peers. I don’t feel comfortable talking about that without her approval. But she showed up on my doorstep late in the night. We talked, she stayed the night, and I took her to school the next morning. But I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last time she showed up at my apartment. I had an extra bedroom, so I put a bed and a small desk in there, and the room became hers. Not two weeks later, she landed on my doorstep unannounced again.” Rebecca paused with a shrug.  “I didn’t mind, really. I wanted her to have a safe place to escape to, and as long as she knew she could come to me, I knew she wouldn’t run off anywhere else. Jillian graduated high school at sixteen, and began full-time college classes. She was going to move into the dormitories come fall, but I think she was happy staying with me so I never pushed her to do so. At any rate, dormitories are the best place to learn all kinds of poor self-care habits, and it was easier to keep an eye on her at home.”

“I think you missed the boat on that one. I still have to remind her about lunch every day. ‘Yeah, Holtzy, it’s time for lunch _again._ Lunch happens every day.’ I swear she’s 85% Pringle. Sure is salty enough.”

“Anyway, I mentored her all the way through graduate school and her doctorate, and helped her get an internship at CERN. That didn’t go as planned—”

“Did she really lock a man in a particle accelerator?”

“What?”

“I can never tell when she’s bein’ serious. That’s what she said happened at CERN.”

Rebecca didn’t get to answer, because right then they heard an enthusiastic whoop that could have only come from Jillian, who bounded around the corner in her combat boots.

Some things really never did change. 

She was followed by the other two women— Abby and Erin, Rebecca reminded herself— loaded down with take-out boxes and plastic silverware, considerably more sedate than Jillian. They unloaded the containers onto the table, pushing individually-labeled paper boxes toward each person, and filing into their spots around the table, leaving an empty spot for Jillian directly opposite of Rebecca, on the outside. Rebecca and Patty were toward the inside, Abby and Erin on the ends. As the women all began opening their take-out boxes, Jillian crawled under the table, shoving legs and feet out of her way, popping up between Rebecca and Patty, which forced everyone else to scoot around to make room as she climbed all the way into her newly-acquired spot. 

“Oh my god, Holtzy. You could have just said you wanted to sit here. We would’a let you in.” 

“Not nearly as much fun, Pats. Could ya pass my food over?”

Patty snorted, shoving the box toward Jillian, while Rebecca chuckled quietly to herself. She watched silently for a few moments as she ate, most of the conversation dying down as they all tucked into their food. Rebecca rolled her eyes as Jillian lifted a huge, tangled knot of noodles into the air with her chopsticks and proceeded to drop the whole thing into her wide-open mouth. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, since you eat like a circus monkey on drugs,” Patty laughed, but there was nothing mean-spirited in her tone. Jillian didn’t respond, but inched herself over until she was nearly in Patty’s lap, dodging protests and threats from Patty about dropping food on her. Abby seemed oblivious to Jillian’s eccentric behavior, probably so accustomed to it by now that she didn’t even blink. Rebecca decided that she liked the woman; there was something very down-to-earth and practical about her, even amidst the unlikely science of the paranormal. Erin, however…..Erin sat in awkward silence, constantly shifting in her seat and pushing her food around in the container. Rebecca took every opportunity she had to glare across the table at Erin, which Jillian didn’t notice— she appeared to be doing everything in her power to not look in Erin’s direction at all.

Whatever had transpired between Erin and Jillian wasn't technically her business,  she reminded herself, but Rebecca couldn’t help but be irrationally angry at Erin, even though she knew it wasn’t fair. But if Erin thought for one minute that Rebecca wasn’t a fiercely protective, riled up mama bear, despite her aloof manner, she was dead wrong. She wasn’t going to give Erin an _inch_ until she knew how things had gone down between them. She’d show Erin her _claws._

The rest of dinner was uneventful, but as the minutes ticked by, Rebecca could see Jillian beginning to crack. It was increasingly difficult for her to follow the conversation, and once, Rebecca caught her staring off into space. When that happened, she had shifted just enough to get in Jillian’s eye line and draw her attention back to the present. She gave Jillian a questioning look, which was returned with a small smile and a dismissive shrug. After the third time, Rebecca decided to intervene and get them both out of there.

“Jillian, it’s getting late. Would you walk me back to my hotel?” She planned to get ahead of the game this time. Things had seemed only a little tense at dinner, and Jillian had managed to mask her discomfort beneath an air of massive bravado, but Rebecca knew the moment she was left to her own devices, her negative, distorted thoughts would intensify and eat her alive. They said their goodbyes to the team, and Rebecca hid a smile as Jillian kissed the back of Patty’s hand like a proper gentleman, positively beaming under Patty’s radiant smile. When everyone split for the night, she watched Jillian wilt before her eyes. Rebecca draped her arm over Jillian’s shoulders and they walked the remaining block and a half to the hotel and through the lobby to the door of her room in silence. “I had a feeling I might have some company tonight. Come on, let’s talk it through.”

Jillian nodded against Rebecca and followed her awkwardly into the sitting area of her room without letting go. Rebecca gently pushed her down into the plush chair, dropped a packet of tissues in her lap, and stepped away for a minute to pour them each a glass of merlot. It wasn’t Jillian’s favorite drink, but she thought the alcohol might blunt the electric, stinging emotions long enough for them to talk about it and help them both find some true perspective.  A She handed a glass over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Your colleagues seem nice,” Rebecca ventured mildly, swirling the wine in her glass and taking a sip.

“Uh-huh.”

“Especially Patty. We had a nice talk while you and—“ she swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat, “the others were ordering dinner.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She mentioned that she is originally from the outer rings of Saturn, and prefers to eat human brains instead of Chinese take-out.”

“Uh-huh.” 

Rebecca sighed, watching Jillian stare down into her wine glass. Though she had never been a mother, the one person she well and truly knew how to take care of was Jillian, and she knew they weren't going to get anywhere like this. 

“ _Jillian,_ ” she said just sharply enough to get her attention, “come here.” When Jillian looked up, her eyes were unfocused and glassy, and Rebecca could tell her mind was still very far away. She stood and reached for Jillian’s untouched glass, setting it on the small cafe table off to the side of the chair. Rebecca pulled Jillian up and guided her the few steps over to the bed. She took a second to situate herself on the edge of it again, and pushed Jillian gently down to the ground by the shoulders, with her back against the bed and between Rebecca’s legs. It was a dance they had done many times over the years, and before Rebecca could even start removing bobby pins from Jillian’s elaborate hairstyle, she noted her shoulders drooped and she leaned into Rebecca’s leg just slightly. If nothing else, Jillian was absolutely predictable in her need for physical contact. 

Though they had been apart for a while, Rebecca still knew exactly where to find the bobby pins, and she expertly removed them, making a small stack on the nightstand. Once she had the pins all out, she alternated lightly scratching and massaging Jillian’s scalp, pleased when she felt her melt into the touch. 

“I can make some educated guesses as to what’s bothering you, but I’d rather hear it in your words. Tell me about it?” Rebecca ran her finger along Jillian’s earlobe, knowing how sensitive they were, and chuckled when she squirmed.

“I thought I was right this time. I thought I read the information correctly and I didn’t need to spell it out because I thought I was right. But I wasn’t right, and now I’ve made Erin uncomfortable and I doubt that any of them will want me around anymore.” Her words were a jumble, and though they made sense, there were some crucial details that Rebecca was sure had been missed.

“So you wanted to date Erin, is that correct?”

“I think so?”

“But you didn’t ask her in private if that’s what she wanted. Is that also correct?”

“Noooooo,” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands, and spoke through her fingers, “I mean, yes. That’s correct. No, I didn't ask her.” Rebecca tugged lightly on her hair to get her head back up. “I was just really caught up in the excitement of the moment and the excitement of you being here and seeing all of this, and then you said you were proud of me and it just kind of slipped out before I could stop it.”

“I see. Things like that happen, especially if someone is excited or scared or stressed. It’s easy to revert back to old behaviors in those moments,” she stated simply.  “I think it’s very insightful of you to recognize what happened. What do you think should happen next?” Rebecca combed through Jillian’s curls with her fingers, separating the locks into three equal pieces and began to braid. 

“I don’t know. I should probably apologize to Erin, but I don’t think they want to see me ever again.”

“I think an apology is a good place to start,” she nudged Jillian’s shoulder with her knee and sighed. “I probably owe Erin an apology, too.”

            “Why would you need to apologize to Erin?”

            “I was a bit…frosty…towards her during dinner, when I thought she had hurt you.” She wrinkled her nose. That was a problem for another day. “At any rate, I’m not going to indulge your catastrophizing other than to say there is no reason for you to believe that you are not still a welcome part of the team. When you feel like you can consider it rationally, we can revisit your unfounded concern.”

“No, it’s fine. I know.”

“I wonder, though, if your feelings aren’t misdirected?”

“What do you mean?” Jillian looked back over her shoulder, suddenly hopeful and curious.

“I noticed that you and Patty were quite cozy at dinner.”

“Oh….yeah. Patty. I— we— I don’t know. We’re always like that.”

“Uh-huh. Are you ever like that with Erin?”

“I—,” she shook her head and caused Rebecca to drop one of the lengths of Jillian’s hair, which earned her a thump on the top of her head.

“Keep still. I’m nearly finished.” Jillian froze while Rebecca finished, securing the braid with an elastic tie. “Ok, all done. Stand up,” she instructed, turning Jillian around to face her when she complied. “All I’m saying is that I think you should do some careful examination of what you are feeling, and make sure it is directed at the right person. When you feel, you _really feel_ , and I think it is probably very easy for you to get overwhelmed and confused when that happens.” She took Jillian’s perpetually icy hands in her own and held them lightly while Jillian considered what she had said in silence.

“Rebecca?”

“Hmm?” She rubbed her hands up and down Jillian’s arms in an attempt to draw some warmth into her cold limbs.

“Can I stay here with you tonight?”

“You come over unannounced, you drink all my wine, insist that I braid your hair, and on top of all that, you want to spend the night?” Rebecca arched an eyebrow in feigned indignation. “I suppose you’ll want breakfast, too,” she joked, though they both knew she wasn’t going to let Jillian go in the morning without making sure she had a decent meal in her. Old habits die hard.

“Rebeccaaaaa,” she whined, but cracked a small, mischievous smile, “I only want breakfast if you aren’t the one making it. I can’t choke down any more of your burnt waffles.”

           “Jillian Holtzmann, you wound me,” Rebecca couldn't even finish her sentence without laughing.  “Go on, then. Take off those boots and get comfortable. I’ve got the newest issue of a particle physics journal we can read before bed.”

“Scandalous,” Jillian grumped. Rebecca playfully swatted her butt, sending her off to get ready for bed. She followed a few minutes later after she had changed to complete her own nighttime routine. They took turns at the sink washing their faces. Jillian hadn’t brought much of anything with her, but Rebecca was so used to sharing just about everything between them that the only thing she couldn’t do was brush her teeth. Jillian looked at her with sad, puppy dog eyes and a protruding lower lip, obviously having no qualms about sharing a toothbrush.

“It doesn’t matter how much I love you, Jillian, I am _not_ sharing my toothbrush.”

“Patty shares her toothbrush with me all the time,” she offered helpfully. 

“Does Patty know she shares her toothbrush with you?” she asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Like does she _know,_ or does she _know-know_?”

“I see.” She did not, in fact, _see_ , but she decided she would rather not think about it while her own (hopefully— now she wasn’t sure) toothbrush was in her mouth. Rebecca tossed the travel-sized bottle of mouthwash at a pouting Jillian, and finished brushing her teeth. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were both washed up and in pajamas (well, _she_ was in pajamas—Jillian settled for boxers and a sports bra), ready to crawl into bed. Rebecca retrieved the physics journal from her suitcase and slid into bed first, pulling the covers up around her body. Jillian always seemed to be cold, especially at night, so she situated herself right into Rebecca’s side and rested her head on the older woman’s shoulder. 

“Shall I read this aloud, or are you too tired?”

“Too tired,” she mumbled into Rebecca’s shoulder.

“Alright. Let’s just get some sleep.” She shifted far enough to pull the chain and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, despite Jillian’s grumbly protests, and returned to her designated spot with her arm under Jillian. She pulled the blanket up around them.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, my love. Now try to go to sleep.”

“Rebecca?”

“Yes, Jillian?” she sighed.

“Can I move back to Boston and stay with you?”

“Absolutely not. I will always welcome your visits, but they will be just that— visits. You have friends, a life, and a career here in the city. It would be a shame to give up on all of that just because of a little blunder.”

There was silence for several long minutes, and just as Rebecca had begun to drift off, she was mercilessly dragged back into wakefulness. 

“Rebecca?”

“What is it, Jillian?”

“I freaking love you and you know that, right?” Rebecca felt Jillian’s arm tighten around her middle. She could make out her soft features in the dim light that backlit the window and illuminated the room just enough for her to tap Jillian’s nose with her finger without missing. It was an odd kind of love that they shared— the kind that paid no heed to blood ties. Rebecca knew she would always be behind Jillian on her best days, and in front of her on her worst days, and really, that was the only kind of love that truly mattered to her.

“I do, and I love you very much, too, but if you do not go to sleep, we are going to get up right now and read that physics journal cover-to-cover.”

“Ok, ok. I’m sleeping.”

“It’s hard to sleep with your eyes open.”

Jillian blew a raspberry on Rebecca’s bare shoulder before closing her eyes.

 


End file.
